End of Heartache
by MyChaosTheory
Summary: CM Punk was on top of the WWE as the best in the world, but he still felt like something was missing from his life. When AJ wandered into it, he thought things couldn't get any better... But fixing her broken heart may be more difficult than he thought, and both of them may have gotten more than they bargained for.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note: Hey there, this is my first fan fiction. Be gentle, please. :P Usual disclaimer, I don't own anything, etc. Ok, here we go!**

Another day, another show. Another win. Living the dream, one match at a time. That was CM Punk's life.

He was walking backstage after RAW, exchanging high-fives with Kofi Kingston as he passed by on his way to the locker room. His head was held high, as always. Things were good- very good. Couldn't be better, in fact. He was the highest ranking champion in the top wrestling promotion and an internationally revered superstar. He was in the best shape of his life and had finally earned the respect of some of the greats he'd looked up to for years. While it had never been about money, he was earning more now than he ever had before. His house and car were paid off. Even after he retired from wrestling, he would never have to work again. He could do whatever he wanted for the rest of his life.

_So why do I feel like something's missing? _

He wasn't sure why, and he couldn't quite place the emotion. It was almost as though there a hollow feeling- like something was supposed to be there, but wasn't. And it was something familiar- something he'd felt fragments of before, but was mysteriously absent now.

Punk contemplated this thought as he reached the door to the locker room. As he grasped the doorknob, he felt a small hand fall on his arm. He spun around to find the hand belonged to none other than AJ Lee. She was still in her plaid ring gear, standing with her legs slightly crossed, as though unsure of herself.

"Hi," she said nervously, retracting her hand.

"Hey," he said, leaning his back against the wall. "What's up?"

"I just, um… I wanted to congratulate you. I really liked your match. It was good."

He nodded. "Thanks."

"I mean, I know we're going to be working together a lot so, I just wanted to say that." She quickly turned around and scurried away.

Confused, Punk shook his head and entered the locker room. He found Zack Ryder there, sitting on a bench and scrolling through his phone.

"What was that all about?" Zack asked, not looking up as Punk headed to his duffel bag.

Punk shrugged. "Damned if I know," he replied, unzipping his bag and pulling out street clothes. He put on his shorts and threw on a T-shirt; he'd shower later, at the hotel. "She's been a little weird ever since the thing with Bryan."

Then again, he hadn't known her very well before she'd begun dating his old friend, either. They'd spoken occasionally, usually during a backstage lull or international traveling, as she was one of the few divas he had anything in common with. They would talk of comics and B-grade zombie flicks, which usually allowed for a few laughs. He liked her, and she him, but their friendship was casual and had never progressed beyond that. In fact, she'd pretty much stopped talking to him all together when she started dating Daniel Bryan. He knew from personal experience that she wasn't anywhere near as emotional (or 'crazy') as the recent storyline was making her out to be. Since the breakup (which many had thought to be purely story, but the real one had soon followed) she'd been very quiet and timid off-camera, polite and nothing else. He knew he would have to start interacting with her much more in the coming weeks, but if she couldn't feel comfortable around him, he wasn't sure how convincing they could make their segments, no matter how good of a performer either of them were.

"I'm heading out," he told Zack, collecting his bag. "I need to hit the gym at the hotel."

"Don't you ever sleep?"

"I'll sleep when I'm dead. See you tomorrow."

Zack nodded from where he sat. "Bright and early, champ." They fist-pumped, and Punk walked out.

About 20 minutes later, Punk found himself at the nearby Hilton. He checked in at the lobby and headed to the elevators, where he saw one rapidly closing. "Hold up!" he called, and an arm shot out to catch the doors just before they shut. He jogged the rest of the way, breathing out a sigh of relief. "Thanks," he said, turning to find he was once again in the company of a small female wrestler. "Oh! Hey."

"Hi," AJ said, just as quietly and nervously as earlier. "You're welcome. What floor?"

He glanced at his room key. "25." He looked at the button panel to find it already lit. "Oh, you're staying on 25, too?"

She nodded, and for several floors they rode in silence.

"Hey," he said finally. "Are you all right?"

She shifted the weight of her duffel bag from one shoulder to the other. "What do you mean?"

"I mean…" He sighed, searching for the right words. "You've been kind of avoiding talking to me. Everyone, really. For awhile now. Ever since-"

"I started dating Daniel," she finished for him.

"Yeah," he confirmed, nodding. "Why?"

She rubbed her arm and looked down. "He didn't really… like me talking to other guys," she said.

"But you talked to me earlier," he reminded her. "And you're talking to me now."

"Just to say hi. And I got in trouble for it." She rubbed her arm again, and this time Punk took notice of it.

"You're not even with him anymore. Why are you still letting him control you?"

"He's not!" she protested, a surprising spark entering her voice. "He didn't. He never did."

"But you are," he pressed. "You said you 'got in trouble'. What, did he push you or something?" She shook her head rapidly, but again her hand went to her arm. This told Punk otherwise. "He's still fucking you, isn't he? That's why he thinks he can get away with this shit. He still thinks you belong to him."

"No!" she squealed. "Look, you've got it all wrong. I… I'm trying to make him see that we can still work things out. I love him. He loves me. I just need to make him see that."

"And you think being his on-call sex toy will help you with that?"

"Just stay out of it, okay?" she snapped. "I'm fine." The elevator had reached the 25th floor, and she marched down the hallway.

Unconvinced, Punk followed her until she stopped in front of a door.

"Look, you need to go," AJ said hurriedly, her eyes darting around furtively.

"Why?" Punk demanded. "What are you afraid of?"

"Just stay out of it," she begged again. "Just go. Go!" She turned away from him and knocked on the door.

He walked away reluctantly, turning his head just in time to see the door open, and an arm shoot out to yank AJ inside. Sighing, he headed down the hallway and turned down another corridor to his own room. _Whatever, _he thought, throwing his bag down. _Not my problem. _But as he stripped off his clothes and got into the shower, he couldn't help but feel a pang of regret that he hadn't gone after her, hadn't helped her. _Get a hold of yourself. You're not a bleeding heart and she's not a charity case._

But he couldn't quite convince himself of that.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's note: Hope everyone enjoyed chapter one, onto chapter two!**

"Who was that?" Daniel growled, releasing AJ's arm and shutting the door. He was wearing only boxer shorts, and sounded very cross with her.

"Huh?" she asked, freezing in place. "What do you mean?" But she knew exactly what he meant.

"Don't pull that bullshit act with me," he snapped. "You were talking to someone. Who was it?"

"No one," she assured him. "I just saw someone in the hallway, that's all."

"Bullshit!" he yelled, snatching her bag and throwing it down. She backed away in fear, knowing what was coming next. "You were talking to some guy. You say you want me back, and you walk around acting like a whore. First you're hanging with Punk, and then-" He paused, as though coming to a sudden realization. "That was Punk, wasn't it? Out there? You whore! You fucking whore!"

"No, please!" she begged. "We were just talking. We were in the same elevator and he was staying on the same floor! Please, don't-"

Before she could continue, she felt the back of Daniel's hand come whistling across her face. She cried out in pain, stumbling back and clutching her cheek. She looked up to see him leaning over her, his cold blue eyes shooting daggers.

"You want me _back_, AJ?" Daniel asked, his voice low and dangerous. "Prove it."

AJ nodded quickly and began taking off her clothes. As soon as she was undressed, he grabbed her by the shoulders and threw her down on the bed.

Half an hour later, Daniel was sitting up with his hands on his knees. AJ was clutching a sheet to her chest and forcing herself not to cry. She felt weak and disgusted, as she usually did after sleeping with Daniel. In the beginning, the sex had been good, but it had quickly degraded into a show of Daniel's dominance. At first she'd resisted, but her defenses were soon worn down, and before long she was letting him do whatever he wanted to her, as rough as he wanted. Sometimes, she was able to just accept it, but many nights, like tonight, it got to her.

Daniel stood up and stretched, yawning as he headed to the bathroom. "Get out," he ordered.

"What?" she asked, sitting up. "Can I at least shower first?"

"You heard me," he said, jerking his thumb in the direction of the door. "Get the fuck out."

"But I-"

"OUT!"

She stood up shakily, still grasping the sheet until Daniel yanked it away from her. He stood over her, barking orders as she pulled on her clothes, grabbed her bag, and hurried out. It took her a moment of barreling down the hallway to realize she didn't actually have a room of her own. She took the elevator down to the lobby, where a young desk attendant greeted her sleepily.

"I… I need a room," she said quietly.

"I'm sorry, ma'am," the attendant said. "We're operating at full capacity tonight."

She froze. "Are… you sure?" she asked. "There's… there's nothing?"

"I can check again…" The attendant bent over his computer, typing quickly before shaking his head. "No. I'm sorry, ma'am."

She walked away from the desk slowly, not sure where to go. She wandered aimlessly around the first floor of the hotel, getting a soda from the vending machine and drinking the entire thing before she realized it was nearly 2 AM. She had nowhere to go and didn't have the energy to get a cab to another hotel. Giving up, she sat down on a bench near the hotel's gym. She dropped her bag at her feet, buried her head in her hands, and started to cry. She didn't know how long she sat there for, but it felt like an eternity passed, wallowing in her own misery, until she heard a voice calling to her.

"AJ?"

She lifted her head to see Punk standing in front of her, wearing only gym shorts and sneakers. There was a small towel slung over his shoulder, a water bottle gripped in one hand. "I thought you had a room," he continued. "What are you doing down here?"

"No," she replied, wiping the tears from her face. "It wasn't my room."

"Let me guess, he threw you out after fucking you? The old cut-and-dry, huh?"

There was no point in hiding that part anymore; he already knew. She nodded.

He frowned, studying her closely. "What the hell is that?"

"Huh? What?"

"This." He reached out to touch the small, tender welt that had formed on her cheek. She yelped and recoiled from his touch. "You're kidding me! He _hits _you? He fucking _hits _you and you _still _don't have the sense to stay away from him? What is this, the fifties? Where you tell your friends you walked into a door and they all believe you without question? What the hell, AJ!"

"I'm sorry," she said quietly, looking up at him with tear-filled eyes. "Please don't-"

"Don't what?" he cut her off. "Don't hurt you?" He shook his head, massaging his forehead with one hand as though it would help him make sense of the situation. "Fucking hell. You don't have anywhere to stay, do you?" She shook her head. "All right, you're staying with me. Come on." He motioned her forward.

"Oh no, that's okay," she said. "You don't have to. I can just…"

"Sleep in the hallway? Go to another hotel, at 2 AM? No. Come on." He grabbed her bag and threw it over his shoulder. She stood up and followed wordlessly, not sure how to thank him. Not sure if she even should.

When they reached Punk's room, he set her bag down and sat on the bed to remove his shoes. "Can I… shower?" she asked nervously, leaning against the doorframe.

He looked up at her. "Of course," he said, blinking at her. "I'm not running a dictatorship here."

"Thank you," she muttered, and disappeared into the bathroom with her bag. Ideally she would have liked to take a long, agonizingly hot and rejuvenating shower to rid her of the shame she felt from her encounter with Daniel, but she didn't want to anger Punk. So she emerged about 15 minutes later, wearing a long T-shirt that hung loosely on her thin frame, and a pair of shorts. She found Punk lounging on the bed in a clean pair of shorts, reading _Watchmen. _

"Where should I sleep?" she asked.

He glanced up from the book, eyes widening as they fell on her. Even with no makeup, her hair wet, and wearing pajamas, she was stunning. "Um," he said, blinking rapidly to break from his trance, "here." He patted the bed and stood up. "I can sleep in the chair."

"Oh no, I couldn't ask you to do that! This is your room. I should sleep in the chair."

"What?" He shook his head. "No. This is ridiculous. This bed is huge. We can both sleep here comfortably without getting in each other's way. That is, if you're okay with that." He raised an eyebrow and offered her a smile, a small but well-timed joke.

"No, sure, whatever you want," she said. She put her bag down and slipped under the covers, as close to the edge of her side as she possibly could.

He put his book away and joined her a moment later, settling himself comfortably under the blanket. He turned to her, head propped up on one elbow. "You know," he said, "you don't deserve this."

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"Being treated the way he treats you- like you're less than him," he explained. "You deserve respect. Someone who treats you like an equal. Someone who loves you."

"He does love me," she said firmly. "He just… shows it in a different way."

He reached out to stroke her cheek gently. His thumb brushed lightly over the mark. "That's not love," he said quietly. "That's an angry little brat who's using you as a door mat for his own idiocy and insecurities."

"You just don't understand," she whispered, but she didn't shrink away from his hand.

"Sure I don't." He planted a soft, light kiss on her forehead. "Goodnight, AJ." With that, he rolled onto his back and turned out the light.

They parted ways quickly the next morning. As they said goodbye in the lobby, neither of them said a word about how, when they'd woken up, they had found themselves nestled comfortably in each other's arms.

/p


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's note: Thanks for all the reviews, they're very encouraging! Enjoy chapter three!**

The next few weeks of Punk's life were almost surreal. As his weekly segments with AJ on RAW (and occasionally Smackdown) brought them closer together on-camera, it did so behind the scenes, as well. As the days went by she began to feel more and more comfortable with him, and their friendship grew more in that short span of time then it had the entire time he'd known her. They talked about almost everything- favorite superheroes, favorite matches, their pasts, their ultimate aspirations for their respective careers. He made his usual sarcastic remarks and smart-aleck jokes, just to hear her contagious laughter. She was smart, funny, nerdy, and incredibly beautiful, and he felt… calm with her. At ease. Happy. Overjoyed, even. Like the void in his heart was filled whenever she was around, even though they'd never so much as kissed. He felt a flutter of joy in his stomach and heat in his chest whenever he saw her dazzling eyes, her sweet smile. Even Kofi had noticed that he'd been in a far better mood than usual lately.

But there was one thing standing in his way.

Daniel.

AJ still went back to him, every night they were on the road. They'd fallen into a strange but weirdly acceptable pattern: Daniel would ignore her backstage and everywhere else, and at night she would go to his hotel room. After he kicked her out she would go to Punk's room and curl up next to him, shivering and crying. Every night he would ask her why she kept going back, and every night she would say the same thing: "because he loves me." Every night he considered giving her an ultimatum, wanted to say, "It's him or me," but he couldn't bear the thought of losing her, so he left it alone. It burned him to his very core to see her in so much pain. He had to fight back the urge to attack Daniel every time the bastard crossed his line of vision, to choke him out and tell him to stay away from AJ forever.

But he couldn't. That's not what she wanted.

The last straw came a few nights before Over the Limit. AJ had gone to Daniel's room after the Smackdown taping, as usual, but Punk had secretly followed to make sure she would be all right. Daniel had been especially edgy that night as he prowled around backstage, and Punk could just tell that the former World Heavyweight Champion was about to burst. He hid behind the wall around the corner as AJ knocked on the door, but was not prepared for the sound of it flying open with such force as Daniel stepped out into the hall.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Daniel yelled, his voice nearly cracking with rage.

"W-what do you mean?" she asked, reverting to the timid personality she had all but stopped displaying with Punk.

"I know you've been sneaking around with Punk," he spat. "People have told me. You talk. You eat together. You're practically dating!"

"We're not, I swear!"she promised. "We're just friends, that's all!"

"I swear to God, AJ, if you want _any _chance at all of me getting back with your sorry ass, you'd better stop with this shit! If I ever see or hear of you being anywhere near him outside of segments or matches it is _over _for us, do you hear me? _Do you fucking hear me_?" Punk heard her cry out, and he ducked out from behind the wall to see that Daniel was dragging her into the room by her hair.

"Hey!" Punk yelled, running up to them. "Let go of her!"

Eyes widening in shock, Daniel released her. "This is none of your business," he growled.

"When you hit a woman in front of me, you make it my business!" Punk snapped. He took Daniel by the shirt collar and shoved him up against the wall. "You stay the fuck away from her, you motherfucker."

Daniel wriggled out of Punk's grasp, shoving him back. "Me stay away from her? She's the one who crawls back into my bed every night. You want this dirty whore? You can have her! I'm done with her. She was shit in bed, anyway." He smirked at Punk before shooting her a look of pure disgust. "Get the fuck out of my sight." He disappeared into his room, slamming the door behind him.

"Come on," Punk said, gently tugging AJ's arm. He led her into the elevator and a few floors down to his room, thinking she was stunned into silence. But as soon as the door closed behind them, she unloaded on him.

"What have you done?" she cried, her voice desperate. Her eyes were red. "I almost had him back! I was so close, Punk! I was so close, and you ruined it! He'll never want me back now!"

"Good!" he yelled back. "All he did was take advantage of you! You don't need him, AJ. You have no idea how hard it's been for me this past month. I've had to fight every urge and sensibility I had not to beat the shit out of that cowardly little maggot every time I saw him. He- he _used _you, AJ! He _hurt _you! You deserve more than him, so much more-"

"What do I deserve?" she snapped. "You?"

"No," he said weakly, throwing up his hands. "You deserve- you deserve everything. You deserve a prince. You deserve the world. You deserve everything I can give you and so much more."

"And what can you give me?" she asked, her bottom lip quivering as she spoke.

"Everything I am," he said quietly. "All of me."

"Then show me," she whispered, her widened eyes a silent plea. "Show me what I deserve. Show me what a prince is like."

In a second his lips came down on hers. They were soft and sweet, just like he'd imagined. He wrapped his arms around her waist, surprised with the intensity with which she kissed back as her arms fell around his neck. He thumbed the bottom of her shirt, a question. He had the desperate, insatiable urge to feel every inch of her. She nodded in answer, and their lips broke apart just long enough for him to pull her shirt over her head, and yank his own off as well. His hands travelled up her back, fiddling with the clasp of her bra. It came free and fell to the floor, and he quickly began working to unbutton her jeans. Moments later they were both completely undressed and tumbled back onto the bed.

He kissed a trail up her body, starting just below her navel, enjoying her smooth skin. His lips landed on her chest, sucking gently at her. She gasped, letting out a breathy moan as she threaded her fingers through his hair. He let one hand drift below her waist, parting her thighs and slipping a finger inside her. Another moan escaped her lips, this one higher than the first. She bit down on his neck as he rotated his finger, rubbing against her gently. Pressed against her leg, he was already hard.

Her hand fell between them to stroke him, and he let out a sharp gasp. "Please," she begged. "Do it."

He gladly obliged, pulling his finger out and thrusting himself inside her. She arched her back and moaned, her nails raking down his back. He started off slow, at first, using the moans and gasps as his guide for when to go harder. His hips were bucking wildly against hers when he felt her climax, holding him tightly and crying out his name. It didn't take long for him to follow, coming hard against her as he threw his head back in pleasure. He rode it out and collapsed on top of her, both their bodies covered in a thin sheen of sweat.

A few minutes later he was lying on his back, her arm sprawled across his chest and her body pressed against his side. "How did that feel?" he asked, his voice quiet, as though raising it would disturb their peace.

"Like love," she whispered back. "It felt like love."

"Good," he said.

"Do you?" she questioned. "Love me?"

"I do," he admitted.

"Say it."

"I love you."

She smiled. "I love you, too."


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's note: Here's chapter four, thanks again for the positive reviews. Enjoy!**

The next month of AJ's life was perfect.

She'd never felt so safe before, so loved. They spent almost every second they could together, alternating spending days off at each others' houses. He showed her all of Chicago- where he grew up, his favorite pizza place, tattoo shop, the park where he went jogging- and she took him on many tours of Union City. They did have separate media days, and the time apart was torture. But she kept herself busy, reading and working out and counting down the minutes until she could be in his arms again.

There were still hardships- she sometimes flinched when Punk moved to put his arm around her, or felt a familiar twinge of fear when she saw him walking down the hallway. Sometimes she jumped whenever her phone beep, sure it was an angry text or call from him, demanding to know her whereabouts. But he wasn't like that; she knew it wasn't. She had to keep reminding herself the he wasn't Daniel, that she was safe now.

But they were slowly growing past it, and things were getting better all the time. He was coaxing her out of her shell, bit by bit. He was sweet and gentle when she needed it, and wild and rough when she begged for more. She loved every moment of it, and every inch of his tattooed skin. Every bit of the heart that he showed no one else but her.

Leave it to none other but fate to throw a wrench in her fairytale.

* * *

Punk couldn't believe how fantastic things were.

If he was on top of the world before, he was in orbit now. AJ was everything he'd hoped and dreamed of and more. They spent evenings listening to punk rock, reading graphic novels penned by his good friends, watching old movies, playing video games. Sometimes, he cooked for her. Other nights, she cooked for him. In bed? She was like nothing he'd ever experienced. There was something about her innocence and her desperate desire to please him that sometimes left him struggling to keep up with her. It was matched only by his fierce need to protect her.

News of their relationship spread like wildfire through the roster, but he didn't care. Let them look! Let them whisper! Let them judge! He was happy, and that's all that mattered. Their real friends understood that, and congratulated them for it. Daniel mostly left them alone, and aside from occasionally shooting death glares at them from across the room, he was a non-issue outside of the ring.

As much as the men loathed each other, they still put on spectacular performances. For Punk, Daniel's hatred only made their matches that much more interesting. Punk's anger was cold and calculated, so he could use it to his advantage when he needed it; Daniel's was hot, so it used him. It made their promos all the more believable.

Life was great. Until the latest catastrophe, that is.

He was sitting backstage at a RAW house show, waiting for the show to close out so he and AJ could head back to their hotel. He'd noticed she had been a little on edge that day, ever since they'd woken up early that morning. She had disappeared into the bathroom for about 20 minutes before returning, her face pale. He asked her several times if everything was all right, and each time she assured him that everything was fine. He tried to accept this, but he had a gut feeling that there was something she wasn't telling him. He was brooding about it near catering when she left to go to the bathroom for the fifth time that night.

"Something wrong?" Kofi asked, grabbing a cup of water from the table next to Punk.

"Huh?" He looked up from the arbitrary spot on the floor at which he'd been staring. "No, I'm fine. Why, what's up?"

"Because you haven't referred to me as an African American gentleman tonight, and I'm starting to worry."

Punk laughed. "All right, how's this. Your… dreadlocks are looking especially perky this evening?"

Kofi tilted his head, regarding his friend carefully. "Hm… No, I'm not buying it. Spill."

He sighed. "I'm worried about AJ," he admitted. "She's been jittery all day. Not saying much."

"Maybe it's her… monthly… thing?" Kofi suggested, raising his eyebrows.

Punk just shrugged. "That would be a little convenient, wouldn't it?"

"Kofi, you're on in ten!" a tech called.

Kofi clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Gotta go," he said. "I'm in a six man tag with Truth. Let me know if she dumps you." He walked away, leaving Punk to his own thoughts.

"Um, Punk?" AJ asked, tapping him on the shoulder from behind.

He leaned his head back to look at her upside down. "Hey!" he said happily. "Thought you were gossiping with Kaitlyn. Did you girls have fun making fun of Vince's hair?"

But her expression was serious. "I need to talk to you," she said. "Can we go somewhere more private?" She glanced nervously around at all the wrestlers, trainers, and general personnel milling around the area.

He nodded, regarding her curiously. He linked hands with her and led her through the winding hallways of the arena, until they reached the door to the loading dock. "All right, we're alone," he said. "What's wrong, baby? You've been acting strange all day." He reached out to stroke her cheek gently.

"Well," she said shakily, "I realized this morning that it's been about a month since I got my period. I talked to Kaitlyn about it, and she convinced me to take a test, and… well…" She shuffled her feet.

"No," he said quietly, his voice laced with disbelief. "You're not…" He couldn't even finish his sentence.

"I'm pregnant."

His legs suddenly felt weak. He leaned back against the wall, sliding down into a sitting position. "You're… pregnant," he said slowly, eyes trained on the floor. "You're pregnant." He took several deep breaths. "Okay. Okay. All right."

"Please don't be mad," she whispered.

"No, no, I'm not mad," he assured her quickly. He got his feet, bracing on the vending machine next to him to stand; things were still spinning a little. "I'm just… I'm frustrated. I guess it's my fault, really. We didn't start using anything until after that first time." He recalled their night of raw passion, until a sudden realization hit him like a ton of bricks. "Wait a second. Did you… use anything with Bryan?"

She shook her head. "He didn't like the feeling of condoms," she said. "He always pulled out. I thought it was stupid because I know that doesn't always work, but I couldn't really argue." Then her eyes widened with fear, as though she'd come to the same conclusion.

"So you were with me… and him… in the same week, a few days apart," he said, his face draining of color, his heart sinking. "And you said it's been about a month?" She nodded slowly, tears filling her eyes. "So then that means… it might not… it… it might not be…" He couldn't even finish. He slammed his fist into the vending machine again and again. "Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck fuck _fuck_!"

AJ winced and backed away. "I'm sorry," she sobbed, tears falling freely now. "I'm sorry."

He turned and looked at her, realizing the effect his anger was having on her. "It's okay," he said, pulling her into his arms. "It's okay. It's not your fault. It's not your fault, baby." He rubbed her back in rhythmic circles, letting her cry it out on his shoulder. "It's okay. We'll get through this together." But inside, his heart was burning. His girlfriend of one month was pregnant, and the baby might not even be his.

What a great start to a relationship.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's note: Dropped a big bomb last chapter, hope I didn't break any hearts :P Here's chapter 5!**

For the next few days, AJ treaded lightly around Punk, not quite sure how to handle him. She was quiet and meek, trying to appease him but never sure if she really was. Punk tried his best, assuring her at every avenue that he wasn't upset with her and that it wasn't her fault, but she was convinced otherwise. She felt like a dirty, worthless whore, just like Daniel always said she was.

The first thing they had to do was let the executive vice president of talent relations know what was going on. She tried to talk Punk out of it, and even though she knew it annoyed him to end, he insisted that it had to be done. She couldn't be involved in anything physical because of her condition; the bump she'd taken from Kane at No Way Out only a few days prior to their discovery had scared him enough. They didn't get into specifics, merely told Lauranitis that she was pregnant. And although a knowing, devious smile had crept over the executive's face, he promised to be professional and keep the news under wraps. Their secret was safe, for now.

But she knew it was only a matter of time before the rest of the roster- including Daniel- found out. The story in coming weeks had been altered slightly to ensure her safety, and people would start to notice that she wasn't being shoved around or attacking people as she normally did. It wouldn't take long for Daniel to put two and two together, and then the real horror would begin…

Shaking her head as she recalled the events of the past few days, AJ curled both legs under her in an attempt to get comfortable, but it was hopeless. No matter how she sat or lay down, no matter how many pillows she stuffed under her, she was never comfortable- not since the morning sickness that was really all-day sickness hit, anyway. Punk constantly fretted over her whenever she got sick (despite his reservations about the entire situation), getting her ginger ale and blankets and anything she needed. He was sitting next to her now, drawing X's on his wrist tape in preparation for his match. He would be in this house show's main event with Dolph Ziggler.

"I have to go now," he said, putting his marker down. "I'll be back soon, okay? Do you need anything?"

"Baby, I'm fine," she assured him. "Go. I'll be right here."

He looked her in the eye. "Are you sure?" She nodded, and he kissed her before walking away reluctantly. As always when she watched him go, she had a pang of fear that he would never come back.

* * *

_Come on, _Punk told himself. _You need to focus. You have a match right now. Get it together._

He made sure his title belt was secured around his waist just as his music began to play, and he hit the ramp with his usual display of confidence. He looked out at the crowd, who went mad for him. _They have no idea, _he thought. _My life just took a huge swerve and nobody has any idea. _He knelt down and tapped his wrist, going through his homage to The Thing before proceeding to the ring where Dolph waited for him.

He wrestled on auto-pilot, almost as though he was only going through the motions. He knew such an attitude was dangerous, but he couldn't help it; his mind was elsewhere. Before he knew it, he hit Dolph with the GTS and pinned him, ending the match. He stood up and threw his arms in the air to celebrate, watching out of the corner of his eye as Dolph rolled out of the ring. The self-proclaimed show-off fixed him with a searing glare and turned to hobble up the ramp, holding his side. Punk thought nothing of it, circling the ring to high-five the first row fans before disappearing backstage.

As soon as he cleared the curtain, he found himself crashing back against the concrete wall. He looked up to find Dolph standing a few feet away, face contorted in anger. "What the hell, man?" he yelled.

"You want to tell me what the fuck that was out there?" Dolph growled.

"What the fuck was what? What the hell did I do?" Punk asked, dusting himself off.

"You stiffed me!" Dolph yelled back. "Three or four times, at least! Were you even paying attention out there?"

Punk's eyes widened; he hadn't even been aware of anything of the sort. "Fuck," he muttered, looking down. "I… I'm sorry. I had no idea. I have… a lot going on right now. I haven't really been as focused as I should be."

"Then get focused!" Dolph snapped. "You could have dislocated my shoulder out there! Fuck, man. I thought we were friends. We're supposed to watch out for each other!" He stormed off, shaking his head.

Punk sighed and went to find AJ, but she found him first. "Are you okay?" she cried. "I was watching on the monitors. What happened out there?"

"I'm fine," he assured her. "And I… I don't know. I'm just… not thinking clearly."

"That's not good," she muttered, her face grave. "Maybe… maybe I should just take care of this so you don't have to worry about it. I don't want to you to accidentally hurt yourself or someone else."

"What?" His eyes widened with alarm. "Wait, no. We need to talk about this first. Come on, let's get out of here." He threaded his fingers through hers and they went to the locker room, collecting his duffel bag and heading out to the parking lot. He didn't even bother saying goodnight to anyone else, just opened the door to their rental car for AJ and driving toward their hotel.

They rode in silence, leaving Punk to his thoughts. His head was still spinning, running a mile a minute. Maybe AJ was right. Maybe this wasn't the best idea. Even if the baby was his, they had only been together for a little over a month. And while neither of them questioned their love for one another, who was to say that it would even work out between them?

And yet…

What if this was his chance, to give this baby the childhood he himself never had? Not a father who slept off hangovers until the middle of the afternoon and a mother who worked nights to make up for her husband's incompetence, but a real, loving, devoted family? Parents who made more than enough than enough money that they would never want for anything, and who would never, ever let their child down?

_What if this baby is the best part of me?_

He was considering all of this as he let himself and AJ into the hotel room, tossing his bag on the floor and stripping off his ring gear. He showered and changed quickly and joined AJ on the bed, who was idly drawing circles on her stomach with her index finger.

"So, um, I was thinking," he said, taking her hand gently.

She tilted her head to look at him. "Yeah?"

"I was thinking," he continued, "that maybe we could… you know, do this."

"You mean…"

He nodded. "I mean have the baby."

"But… what if it's not yours?"

He took a deep breath; the very thought sent a shiver down his spine, made knots form in the pit of his stomach. "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it."

"Are you sure? What about our careers? We're on the road all the time…"

He nodded again. "I'm sure," he said firmly. "You can take maternity leave, and I can ask for a lighter schedule. My contract actually allows me to do that this time around, believe it or not. We can make this work, somehow. If Hunter can do it, so can I." She gave him the joyous, wide-eyed look that always made his heart flutter.

"Oh, baby," she whispered. "I love you." She threw her arms around his neck.

"I love you, too," he whispered back. He wrapped his arms around her tiny frame as she buried her face in his neck. _It's mine, _he thought, holding her tightly. _This baby is mine. It's going to mine. _He couldn't quite process the possibility of it being any other way.


	6. Chapter 6

Daniel could tell something was up.

It wasn't Punk and AJ's relationship that was currently bothering him, although it did, to end; he loathed the sight of the two of them. But recently, they had been acting differently- being more… careful. AJ wasn't skipping down to the ring anymore, and all parts of their segments involving physical contact with her had been cut. He _knew _something was going on with them; he could feel it. He just needed to find out what.

He was brooding about it before RAW, sitting off by himself on a bench when a tech approached him. "You're wanted in Mr. Lauranitis's office," the young man said.

"For what?" Daniel grumbled, rising to his feet.

The tech simply shook his head. "I wasn't told," he said. "Only that it's an important meeting."

Dusting his knees off, Daniel followed the tech through the catacombs of the arena. Because every venue was different, the location of the boss's office changed every night. No one ever knew where it was, and often had to rely on the techs and trainers to guide them. He wondered briefly what the meeting was for. _Let me guess, _he thought. _No one is allowed to stand within three feet of AJ. We have to speak really nicely to her. _His brow furrowed. _Don't they realize how difficult all these stipulations are making this story?_

He arrived at the door temporarily marked 'John Lauranitis', and knocked automatically. The executive answered immediately, opening the door with his usual winning grin. It infuriated Daniel- that false, chipper attitude of his. But he plastered on a smile, looking up at his boss with forced sincerity.

"Hey there, _Daniel_," John said cheerfully, stepping back from the door to allow him inside. "Go ahead and take a seat. We're just waiting for the others."

"The 'others'?" Daniel echoed, taking a seat on the end of the couch. "Who else?"

"Why, CM Punk and AJ, of course," John replied. "We're making a few… changes to the storyline."

* * *

Punk and AJ had made many plans in the past several days. Neither of them had said anything to their families yet, but they were setting things in motion. She was selling her apartment in New Jersey and moving in with Punk, as his four-bedroom house had far more space (even if he didn't, he knew there was no way she would get him to leave Chicago, anyway). They were even talking about getting married before the baby arrived, although that idea had yet to be set in stone. No matter what they decided, though, they were committed to staying together and raising their baby.

They had no plans of telling Daniel, but that decision was taken out of their hands before the next RAW.

Punk was given notice of a meeting with John Lauranitis, and was immediately suspicious of what was to take place. He didn't like anything about it- it was so sudden, the day of the show, when no one would have the chance to disagree or change anything. He knew this had been planned in advance, and he didn't like it.

"Maybe it's not a big deal," AJ said in an attempt to comfort him, squeezing his shoulder gently.

But Punk couldn't be soothed. "No, he planned this," he said, getting up to pace the empty locker room. "A meeting just a few hours before the show?" He shook his head. "He does this whenever he wants to slip something past people, so there's no time to reverse his decision or report it to the higher-ups. It's a major abuse of power, but the board doesn't see it that way. He just does whatever he wants."

"You could be overreacting over nothing," she pointed out. "Don't get all worked up. If he's setting something up, we'll deal with it. But don't freak out just yet."

"I know," he sighed. "I'm just-"

"I know you're worried. Come on, let's get it over with." She stood on her toes to kiss him, and as always, the feeling of her lips on his was enough to calm him. He took her hand and they headed to the executive's office, where he didn't even bother to knock as he opened the door. His eyes landed on Daniel, and his sense of urgency was immediately renewed.

"What is this?" Punk demanded, sending Daniel a searing glance.

"Punk! AJ!" John said cheerfully. "Please, sit down. We have a few things to discuss regarding your story with Daniel Bryan in the coming weeks."

"Stop beating around the bush and say it," Punk snapped, his hand tightening around AJ's.

"Well, as everyone here knows, AJ is expecting, and-"

"She's _what_?" Daniel shouted, leaping off the couch.

"You son of a bitch," Punk snapped, seething with rage. He started toward John with the intent of grabbing him by the collar, but AJ pulled at his sleeve and forced him to stay put. "You _promised _you wouldn't say a word about this!"

John blinked at him. "I was under the impression you'd already told Daniel," he said innocently. "After all, I'm sure there's some questions regarding paternity, so I just assumed that-"

"That's bullshit and you know it!" Punk yelled, his fists curled. "You knew damn well we weren't telling anyone, and-"

"Hold it!" Daniel cut him off. He looked at AJ. "You're _pregnant_?"

"I only found out last week," she muttered, looking down.

"So do you even know whose it is? Answer me!" Daniel's usual demanding tone made AJ shrink down.

"AJ," Punk warned. "You don't have to say anything to him. He doesn't control you anymore."

"I… I don't know," she admitted quietly, ducking behind Punk.

Daniel laughed incredulously. "I knew it," he said. "You're just a whore, just like I said."

"How _dare _you speak to her like that!" Punk yelled.

"People, people," John said coolly, waving his hands. "Let's calm down, shall we? We still have a lot of business to discuss."

"I know what you're thinking, and it's not happening," Punk said flatly.

"That's not your decision to make," John said curtly. "Now, here's what we were thinking. All this backstage drama would make for perfect television, don't you think? We want to bring real life to the screen."

Punk shook his head. "No. Absolutely not. It's not happening. Out of the question."

"Oh, really?" John asked, tilting his head. "So your family problems aren't off limits, but this is?"

"That was different!" Punk snapped. "Chris and I talked about it and agreed on what he could and couldn't say. You're not parading my pregnant girlfriend around like a spectacle!"

"I think AJ made that decision when she decided to sleep with two high-profile superstars," John said.

"Hey, you'd better fucking watch it!" Punk warned. "Now _listen_-"

"No, _you _listen," John cut of him off. "This isn't up for discussion. This is what's happening, starting tonight. Punk and AJ will announce the pregnancy, and Daniel will interrupt and claim it's his. Any questions?"

Daniel laughed. "Yeah, can I call her a whore on camera?" Before John could answer, Daniel held up his hand. "I'm kidding." He looked at AJ. "Just so you know, sweetheart, I don't care whose brat it is. You're not getting a red cent out of me, you gold-digging bitch." He spun on his heel and left the room, leaving AJ crying on Punk's shoulder.

"You're not getting away with this bullshit you keep pulling," Punk growled.

John just smiled at them. "I look forward to the show," he said.


	7. Chapter 7

"We're not doing this," Punk snapped. He was pacing the locker room, stabbing his fingers at the screen of his phone. "Come on, come on," he growled, holding the phone up to his ear. "God damn it, Vince, you useless son of a bitch! Pick up your goddamn phone! What the fuck could you be doing right now that's more important than managing your goddamn company?"

"Baby, please, calm down, "AJ begged. She sat on the bench in front of him. Having dried her tears, she was now the rational one. She looked up at him, dismayed. "Maybe it won't be so bad."

"Won't be so bad?" he echoed dubiously. "Going out there and letting your abusive ex-boyfriend basically call you a whore in front of the whole world, while I just stand by, not able to do anything about it? How, in any stretch of the imagination, would that not be so bad?" He sighed and shook his head. "Fuck. I'm sorry. I'm taking this out on you, and it's not your fault."

"Yes, it is," she whispered, looking down. It was all her fault- letting Daniel do what he did, not being more careful, and putting Punk in this impossible situation.

"No," he said firmly, crouching down in front of her, "it's not. None of this is your fault. Understand?"

She nodded, a stray lock of hair falling in front of her face. He reached over to move it. She closed her eyes as his fingertips brushed gently against her skin. She opened them after a moment, with renewed strength. "We'll be fine," she said confidently. "We're going to go out there together, put on a great show, then you'll put on a great match, and then we'll go home."

"That's my girl," he whispered, leaning forward to kiss her. He stood up, extending his hand and helping her to her feet. "You're right. We'll be fine. Everything will be just fine." But he sounded more like he was trying to convince himself of that than her.

* * *

Punk took a deep breath as he stood behind the curtain, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he stood beside AJ. He was nervous, and that annoyed him; he had never been nervous about cutting a promo on RAW. But then again, the words he'd spoken inside the ring had never had an effect on anyone else other than himself before tonight. He shook his head vigorously in an attempt to clear it. He felt AJ squeeze his shoulder, and turned his head to offer her a small smile as he heard the familiar static that preceded his entrance theme.

He cleared the curtain and looked out at the audience, greeted as usual by thunderous applause. He headed down to the ring with AJ trailing a few paces behind him, and bounded over the ropes so he could hold them open for her. She smiled gratefully, ducking underneath and joining him in the middle of the ring. A tech handed them each a mic, and Punk cleared his throat as the music died down.

"WWE Universe," he began, "we need to have a little chat about things that have been happening lately. As all of you probably know- and if you don't, then _clearly _you haven't been keeping up with the times- AJ over here has been in my corner for a little while now. What you might not know, but have probably guessed, is that we've been dating for awhile, too." He paused to let the revelation sink in; it was met with crowd approval. "Now, you're probably thinking, 'why does any of this matter?' Good question! I'll tell you. See, there's something else that's popped up that's put things into a little bit more… perspective for me." He looked at AJ. "Honey, would you like to tell them?"

She shook her head, smiling sheepishly and blushing.

"All right, all right, I'll tell them." He put his arm around AJ's shoulders. "My lovely girlfriend and I are having a baby." He could barely finish his sentence before the crowd howled in reply. He had to remain silent for almost a full minute, chuckling as he waited for the noise to die down to a reasonable level. "That's right! We're expecting a little Punker! Me, a daddy! I know, right? It's crazy! But that's what you get with crazy chicks." He laughed again. "Now, I've got to start being more responsible." He nodded, his expression fixed with mock seriousness. "I do have people to provide for, after all. And that means that _no one _is taking my _other _baby away from me." He tapped the title belt around his waist. "Not the angry goat-faced midget with the 'yes' speech impediment, and not through any random disqualifications clown shoes and Barbie's friend Executive Call Girl Skipper can think of."

Daniel's music hit just then, as Punk expected. But he turned around with surprise, watching as his nemesis made his way down to the ring with a mic. His icy eyes were fixed on them. "Actually, Punk," Daniel said, climbing through the ropes, "you've got things a little wrong there."

"No need to be jealous, Goat Face," Punk intoned. "You let her go, and she's mine. Run along, now." He waved Daniel away dismissively.

Daniel just shook his head and laughed. "Oh, Punk," he said. "No, I think you'll really want to hear this." He grinned devilishly at AJ, causing her to move slightly behind Punk and grab onto his arm. "We all know that AJ's pretty crazy, right?"

"Watch it," Punk warned.

"But you said it yourself! 'Crazy chicks', right?" Daniel nodded. "That's what we know. But what you _don't _know is who she's still crazy _about_. Namely, _me._" His smile broadened. "That's right, Punk. Your one-woman cheering squad over there is really still in _my _corner. And that's why the little bundle of joy you're so excited about isn't actually yours. It's mine."

"No!" AJ shrieked. Punk could tell she was straining her voice, trying desperately to talk over the insane howling of the audience. "You're wrong." She looked Punk with pleading eyes. "He's lying. It's not true."

"I know it's not," Punk assured her, glaring at Daniel. "Yes Boy over here is just trying to distract me. He wants me unfocused because it's the only way he'll ever be able to beat me for my title. But it's not working. Nice try, though." He winked.

Daniel laughed. "You're in denial!" he said. "You're too stupid to realize what's right in front of your face! Your _girlfriend _is cheating on you, Punk. She's a wh-"

Before Daniel could finish his sentence (and get their entire company fined by the network), Punk dropped his mic and lunged at him. He was a flurry of fists and anger at his adversary, shoving him back into the nearest turnbuckle.

"Punk, stop!" AJ cried. He saw her out of the corner of his vision reach for him, but knew she couldn't get involved so she stepped back, watching helplessly.

Two referees came crashing down the ramp and dove under the ropes, grabbing Punk's arms. They yanked him off Daniel, who was rubbing his jaw but still laughing. The shorter wrestler rolled under the ropes and began backtracking up ramp, his grin a mile wide. It was the face of a man who had gotten exactly what he wanted.

Punk shook the refs off, glaring at Daniel as he disappeared backstage. He turned to AJ, pulling her closer to him. "You okay?" he asked, just loud enough for the ring mics to pick up his voice. She nodded quickly, and he pulled her into a hug. "It's okay. We'll get him. I'll get him." He exited the ring and pulled the ropes open for her, then held out his hand to help her down. They walked up the ramp hand in hand, to massive crowd approval.

Kofi immediately met them backstage. "Whoa," he said quietly. "Exactly how much of that was true?"

Punk glanced at AJ for approval; she nodded, knowing one of his best friends wouldn't think poorly of them. "Most of it," he answered. "She's pregnant, but she stopped seeing him when we got together."

"But you don't know whose it is," Kofi pressed.

Punk clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Try to keep that part under wraps, will you?"

Kofi nodded. "Sure, sure." He sighed, shaking his head. "Do this right, man."

"I'm trying," Punk assured him. "I'm trying my best." He looked at AJ. "Let's get out of here."


	8. Chapter 8

Punk became more nervous with each passing week.

As AJ's stomach grew, so did his anxiety about the entire situation. He was excited for the baby, yes, but he couldn't help but stress about the possibility of things going badly. It was on his mind all the time. He started having nightmares- the baby coming out with blond hair and blue eyes, Daniel taking it away from him, AJ screaming and crying…

"Punk?" AJ asked. "Are you all right?"

He turned his head, blinking. "Huh? Yeah, I'm fine. Why?"

"Well, you've been screwing in the same bolt for the last ten minutes."

He chuckled half-heartedly. "Oh, right. Sorry." They were sitting on the floor of the empty bedroom next to Punk (and AJ's) room, trying to put together a crib. It had been a month since the big pregnancy reveal on RAW, and AJ had moved into Punk's Chicago home. They were slowly putting together a nursery, at the rate of one piece of furniture per week. So far, they had managed to construct a dresser, changing table, and bookcase. Today's project was proving to be the most difficult yet.

"Let's take a break," Punk suggested. "We've each finished one side."

AJ nodded, putting her screwdriver down. "When are we going to paint?"

"I guess when we find out the gender," he answered. "That's in a few months, right?"

"So my pregnancy book says." She paused, idly running her hands across the smooth, white surface of the crib's bars. "You know, we can still do what we talked about. I don't mind, really."

He shook his head. "No," he said firmly. "We're not doing it. It's too dangerous."

"Are you sure?" she pressed. "I know you really want to know."

"I'm sure. I don't need to know right now." In his heart, he knew that wasn't true at all- he needed to know, so very desperately. He wanted the nightmares to stop, to sleep peacefully at night knowing that AJ and the baby were safely his. But he refused to do it. The danger of amniocentesis, in his opinion, was just too great risk it. "I'm starving. Can you make lunch?" He flashed her a smile.

"Of course," she said. She stood up, bracing herself on the partially-built crib; the extra weight around her midsection, although not much at this point, had thrown off her center of balance. "What are you hungry for?"

"Whatever you're willing to cook for me." He got up and followed her through the hallway, glancing into their bedroom, which had been his alone just a few short weeks ago. But he didn't feel as though she'd intruded on his sanctuary or invaded his personal space; in fact, AJ's presence in his home felt very natural. Her collection of geek memorabilia had fit in seamlessly with his, and she had about as big a wardrobe as he did. He barely had to make any adjustments in his closet for her. He did have to admit, though, that sometimes it was strange reaching blindly into his dresser and pulling out a bra instead of boxer shorts.

Over lunch, they discussed the upcoming events of the week. "House show Thursday," AJ said, recalling their schedule. "Media day on Friday. Another house show Saturday. Then Money in the Bank on Sunday."

"And what's today?" he asked.

"Wednesday," she answered.

Punk nodded. "Right. " He sighed. "The days tend to blend together a lot. The only reason I even know it's July is because of Money in the Bank."

"Are you going to be okay?" she asked. "In your match, I mean. Your matches with Daniel have been a little… rough lately."

It was true; he and Daniel were getting progressively more daring and violent as time wore on. "It'll be fine," he answered. "I'll beat the shit out of the little rat bastard, keep my title, and everyone'll love it."

"But you're going to be feuding on and off for the next seven months," she pointed out. "Can your body handle all of that?"

"Have a little faith in me!" He chuckled, reaching out to stroke her cheek. "I'll be all right. I promise."

* * *

The rest of the week flew by. Shows, appearances, interviews- the usual. Before Punk knew it, it was Sunday and he found himself at the US Airways Center in Phoenix, Arizona. Money in the Bank would always hold a special place in his heart, as it was winning two briefcases in row that had really gotten his WWE career rolling. He hadn't been in such a match in a few years, but they were among his favorite to watch.

This year, much like last year, he would be putting his WWE championship on the line. It would be a good match; he knew that much. Despite their differences, he and Daniel still managed to work well in front of the cameras. The crowd loved their violence and intensity, and because ratings went up, so did the board of directors.

He was in the locker room now, discussing his plans with Kofi and Zack as he wrapped his wrists, when his least favorite executive knocked on the door. "Punk!" John said cheerfully. "Glad I caught you. We need to talk about your match tonight." He glanced at the other two wrestlers in the room. "Gentlemen, would you excuse us for a moment?"

"No, _gentlemen_, stay," Punk said icily. He wanted witnesses to whatever the most self-entitled member of upper management was trying to pull now.

John simply shrugged. "Have it your way," he said. "We've decided we want AJ to accompany you to the ring tonight."

"No fucking way!" Punk snapped, his fists tightening. "Absolutely not! That's not happening. Are you insane? She could get hurt!"

"Now, now," John replied coolly. "You and Daniel are professionals! I'm sure you both can work together to keep her safe."

"I don't care! She's pregnant, and she's staying in the back!"

"And I say she's going to accompany you, because she's an integral part of your storyline. Need I remind you that both of you are under contract and that I'm authorized to make any changes to the nature of your appearances that I see fit?"

"You're abusing your power, you son of a bitch!" He felt himself starting to move forward, to attack John, but Zack and Kofi each grabbed one of his arms to hold him back.

John smiled. "Maybe it's a good idea they stayed," he said. "Wouldn't want you taking a swing at me or anything like that. Lots of fines attached to striking your boss when the script doesn't call for it."

"Sounds like the script needs revisions," Zack muttered.

"What was that?" John asked, but Zack shook his head. "That's what I thought. I'm looking forward to the championship match tonight." He turned and left the room.

"Fuck!" Punk yelled. He slammed his hands against the nearest locker, knocking his bag off the bench. "What the hell am I supposed to do?"

"Keep her safe," Kofi answered. "No matter what." He took his friend by the shoulders and stared into his eyes. "Can you stay calm enough to do that?"

Punk nodded, taking a few deep breaths. He had no choice; he had to. She was depending on him, whether she knew it or not. He finished his wrist wrap, drew X's on them, and went to find AJ in the Diva locker room. He rapped on the door several times; Kaitlyn answered.

"I need AJ," he said. "Now."

Kaitlyn nodded, calling to her friend over her shoulder. AJ appeared in the doorway, a smile on her face. Her hand was resting lightly on her protruding stomach, which was left uncovered by her altered 'In Punk We Trust' shirt. "Hey," she said, kissing him. "Is everything okay?"

Punk shook his head, taking her by the hand and leading her into the hallway. "Lauranitis wants you to come to the ring with me."

She tilted her head, confused. "But I can't be involved in matches," she said, her voice rising in alarm. "He knows that. I'm… I'm pregnant. It's not safe."

"I know," he said. "I know. That's what I said."

"Then what do we do?" she cried.

"Stay a few feet back from the ring at all times," Punk answered. "Don't touch the ropes, don't lean on the mat, and don't get up on the apron. Just stay back. I'll try to keep him in the ring."

"Please keep me safe," she whispered, leaning against him.

"I will," he promised. "I will."


	9. Chapter 9

Punk couldn't believe how stupid he'd been.

Later, he would admit that he should have seen it coming. But he was so focused on controlling the entire match, on containing his opponent, on making sure no harm came to AJ, that he was completely blindsided by what happened.

The match had been brutal, and had waged for nearly 20 minutes so far. Punk was exhausted and sweaty, and could see that Daniel was wearing thin, too. He prepared for the GTS, turning to the audience with his signature taunt before going to grab Daniel.

To anyone else, it would have looked like an accident, or maybe even just a simple evasive maneuver. Only from Punk's vantage point, directly in front of Daniel, could it be seen. As Punk went to grab him, he noticed a sly smile creep across the former champion's face. He hoisted Daniel into the fireman's carry, but he felt an extra spring in Daniel's step as he lifted him. So much so, in fact, that the momentum from the lift carried Daniel right over Punk's shoulders, sending him careening over the ropes behind them… right into AJ.

Punk whirled around, his face stricken. He could only watch in horror as Daniel smacked into AJ, sending them both crashing to the floor. He dove under the ropes to get to them, just as Daniel rolled off of her. "What the hell did you do?" Punk yelled, giving Daniel a rough shove. He sank to his knees by AJ's side, who was lying motionless on her back. He pulled her head into his lap. "AJ? Come on, baby." He tapped her cheek lightly.

She could only groan his name feebly in response, her hand falling to her stomach. That's when he noticed her jean shorts were soaked in blood. "Get a doctor!" he shouted. "Get a goddamn doctor, now!" The paramedics were already on their way, two of them rushing down the ramp while wheeling a stretcher behind them.

"Punk, you've got to move," one of the medics said, but he was frozen. The ref had to physically move him away from AJ while the paramedics loaded her onto the stretcher, strapping her in.

"No, no, no," Punk moaned, watching helplessly as they wheeled her away. He turned to face Daniel, who was leaning against the barrier, rubbing his head as he watched the scene unfold before him.

"What have you done?" he yelled. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

Daniel just shrugged. "It was an accident, man," he said innocently. "Botched move. It happens."

"You did it on purpose, you son of a bitch!" Punk snapped back. He launched himself at Daniel, tackling him to the ground. He began beating the other man savagely. These punches were not fake; he was striking with full force. Daniel's nose started spurting blood, dying Punk's wrist tape a bright red.

The two were suddenly surrounded by security personnel. They grabbed at Punk and pulled him off Daniel, whose face was covered in his own blood. Punk shook them off and was on Daniel again, kicking him viciously in the ribs. Daniel howled in pain and tried to roll away from his attacker, to no avail. Punk then felt two stronger pair of hands grasp him, finally yanking him away.

"Get a hold of yourself!" Zack yelled.

"He did it on purpose!" Punk protested, straining against their hold.

"Then beat him later," Kofi snapped. "They're taking her to the hospital."

"We're going to let you go now, and you need to go with her," Zack said. "If you go back to Daniel we're knocking you out."

"All right, all right," Punk grumbled. "Let me go." His friends released him and he took off running, up the ramp and past everyone in the back who tried to talk to him. He reached the loading bay, where the medics were about to close the doors to the ambulance. "Let me on!" he pleaded, and they did, stepping back to allow him to climb in. He sat down and held AJ's hand firmly, trying not to get in the way as the medics milled around him. "It's going to be okay," he told her, but she was silent, her eyes filled with tears.

They reached the nearest hospital in downtown Phoenix moments later, pushing Punk aside to get AJ out of the ambulance. The brought her into the ER and he followed, watching as they transferred her to a bed. She was surrounded by doctors, who barked vital signs over her and started IVs. "Can you save the baby?" Punk asked frantically.

"We're trying," a nurse told him. They wheeled the bed past him and through a set of double doors. He tried to follow but the nurse stopped him. "You can't go in there. We'll come get you when everything is stable. " She rushed through the doors herself, leaving Punk behind in the ER. He stared down at his bloody hands, trying to get used to the fact that there was no longer anything in them.

* * *

Time might as well have stopped; that was how long he felt like he was sitting there, hands clasped together as he hunched over uncomfortably in his rickety wooden chair. He got plenty of stares from the other occupants of the waiting room, but that didn't surprise him. He was half-naked, covered in tattoos, wearing matching boots and wrestling trunks (which most people who weren't fans of wrestling generally assumed was a Speedo), and his taped wrists were covered in blood.

"Sir?" came a female voice. He felt a small hand on his shoulder, and looked up to find the same nurse from earlier standing next to him. "Your wife has been stabilized and the doctor would like to speak with you. If you'll just come with me…" Normally, he would have smiled at someone thinking he and AJ were married, but today was not a normal day. He stood up to follow the woman, his fists clenched tightly to keep his hands from shaking. He was led back through several hallways to patient rooms, where an ER doctor dressed in pale blue scrubs was waiting for him outside a door he could only assume was AJ's.

"The baby is alive," the doctor said, which immediately lifted a huge weight off of Punk's shoulders. He very nearly burst into tears. "But the mother lost a lot of blood. We had to give her several units to keep her stable. This is going to be a high-risk pregnancy from now on. She'll need a lot of bed rest after this, and needs to follow the diet and medication regimen I've given her to the letter. If she's showing any signs of pre-term labor, she needs to be taken to the nearest hospital immediately."

"Can I see her now?" Punk asked.

The doctor nodded. "She might be a little out of it," he warned. "She was thrashing around earlier and we had to give her a mild sedative."

Punk knocked twice on the door before entering the room. He stopped at the doorway, his eyes widening a little before he approached the bed. She looked so small and frail, her skin pale and cheeks streaked with dried tears. "The doctor says I'm okay," she said weakly, offering him a smile. He hugged her gingerly, as though afraid the tiny amount of force would hurt her somehow. But she threw her arms around him and pulled him closer, sobbing into his neck. "I was so scared," she cried, her body shaking uncontrollably.

"Shhh," he whispered, rubbing her back gently. "Everything's okay. The baby's fine and you're fine."

"What happened?" she asked, wiping her eyes with her hospital gown. She slid over so he could lie on the bed with her.

He frowned, shifting the pillows behind them. "You don't remember?"

She shook her head. "Not really. I remember hitting the floor and then being in the ambulance. Did I… faint or something?"

Punk bit his lip, searching for the right thing to say. The last thing AJ needed to hear was that the man she used to love had purposely body slammed her. But he knew she would find out eventually anyway, and she would never forgive him if he lied about it. "Daniel went over the ropes when I tried to do the GTS," he said finally, taking her hand and squeezing it. "He fell on you."

She looked up at him, her eyes filling with tears again. "But it was an accident, right?"

The desperation in her voice broke his heart. "I don't think so," he admitted, hating himself as he spoke.

She started to sob again, holding onto him for dear life as she cried against his chest. He held her close, stroking her hair and trying to comfort her. _I'm a failure, _he thought. _I couldn't protect her and I'm a fucking failure. I am a disgrace of a man._


	10. Chapter 10

AJ would be cleared to leave the hospital a few days later, and Punk wasn't planning on leaving her side throughout her entire stay. He was absolutely furious, and it took every bit of willpower he had to control himself around AJ. He didn't want to upset her any further, no matter how badly he wanted to beat the living daylights out of the men who hurt her.

He had to duck out on Monday for a few hours to appear on RAW, but he didn't like it. Vince McMahon himself had to call and beg him to cut a promo and Triple H even showed up in person, but Punk adamantly refused unless both John and Daniel were fired before he got there. In the end it was AJ who convinced him.

"Go," she said. "You won't be gone long and I'm not going anywhere."

"But I don't want to leave you," he protested.

"I'm in a hospital, nothing's going to happen," she reminded him. "You have a job to do."

So he went, taking the hour long flight to Las Vegas and arriving just before the show started. He didn't speak to anyone backstage, simply waited by the curtain for his cue. He went down to the ring in street clothes, without his title belt, and signaled with a sharp jerk of his hand for the music to be cut. "I'm going to make this quick," he said curtly. "What happened last night was not an accident. It was a planned, purposeful attack. But I'll never be able to prove that, so as usual he's going to get away with it. While he many not receive any punishment from management, there will absolutely be consequences from me. I'm only going to say this once: Daniel Bryan, if you ever so much as _think _about laying a hand on my pregnant girlfriend ever again, they won't find your body." He dropped the mic and exited the ring, the roar of the crowd around him absolutely deafening.

"She's okay, right?" Kofi asked him as he walked through the back. He was headed straight to the parking lot. Punk nodded in reply.

"And the baby?" Zack asked, catching up with them.

"They're both fine," Punk answered. He resisted the urge to go on a rant, to find every higher-up he could and demand John and Daniel's heads on a platter; he had promised AJ he wouldn't. Not yet, anyway. "But it's now a high-risk pregnancy. If they don't let AJ have time off now, I'm suing the shit out of the human resources department." He reached the door, turning on his heel to face them. "How's Daniel?"

"I… don't even know how to describe it," Kofi replied, shaking his head.

"He looks like he got hit by a truck," Zack said helpfully. "His entire face is bruised and you broke his nose. Hairline fractures on a few of his ribs, too. They wanted him out for a month but he demanded to be back by next week."

"He also tried to get you fired," Kofi added, "but Hunter said 'if what happened to AJ was an accident, then so was what happened to you'."

Punk nodded. "Thanks, guys. I have to get going. I have a flight to catch."

He returned to Phoenix and rushed back to the hospital. He had been gone a total of five hours, and AJ was asleep when he got to the room. The TV was on at low volume, turned to the USA Network; so she'd seen the promo. He sat down in the chair next to the bed, trying not to wake her, but she was a light sleeper. She groaned as she woke up, rubbing the bruise around her IV spot.

"You're back," she said, smiling.

"Where else would I go?" he asked jokingly.

She sat up. "Did everything go okay? I saw the promo, but I mean, backstage and all."

"It went fine," he said, reaching to take her hand. He decided to side-step his antisocial adventure at the arena in Las Vegas.

"How's Daniel?"

"A wounded animal," he answered simply.

"I should have stayed away from the ring," she muttered, looking down.

"Hey, hey," he said, squeezing her hand. "It's not your fault. At all, okay? Don't beat yourself up. You're all right and so is the baby. Just focus on getting stronger. We'll be home before you know it."

* * *

They flew back to Chicago on Wednesday, and Punk doted on her, having been given the rest of the week off. He made her stay in bed per doctor's orders, and went through all the domestic duties she had taken over. He spent a lot of time just lying in bed with her, watching movies and talking. Most of the time his hand would linger over her stomach, tracing his name on her skin lightly with his index finger.

All week long, wrestling news was buzzing about Punk's very short but brutal promo. And not just the dirt sheets- regular news outlets, too. _Professional wrestler CM Punk makes death threat live on national television! _the headlines cried. The WWE's PR department was quick to retaliate, assuring everyone that it was merely for entertainment purposes and no real threat had been made. Triple H had to convince his father-in-law and the board of directors not to fine Punk, as he felt the WWE champion had been through quite enough already. But Punk didn't care; he ignored them all, and focused on AJ.

It pained him greatly to leave her on Sunday; he obsessed about it all day, not wanting to leave her alone. He had nightmarish visions of her falling out of bed, slipping in the shower, forgetting to take her medication… He needed to find someone to take care of her while he was on the road. He ended up charging her to his oldest friend, Colt Cabana.

"Make sure she takes her medication," he told his former tag team partner as they sat in the kitchen. "And she's only allowed out of bed for ten minutes a day. Don't let her argue with you over it."

"Relax, relax, you tattooed motherfucker," Colt said, chuckling lightly. "Am I babysitting or just helping her out? She's a big girl and she knows what she's doing."

Punk sighed. "I'm just worried."

"We'll be just fine," Colt assured him. "We'll have a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles marathon. I brought the DVD box set."

"You're such a geek."

"And you aren't?"

He smiled briefly before sighing. "Just… take care of her, okay?"

Colt nodded. "I will, I will. Go beat people up and then come back and laugh with me about it."

Punk went to say goodbye to AJ. They shared a long kiss, and he gave her stern instructions to call him, for any reason. If anything happened, no matter how small or seemingly unimportant. "I love you," he told her, stroking her cheek gently.

"Do you?" she asked quietly.

"Of course I do!" He kissed her forehead.

"I love you, too. Call me when you get there?"

"I promise," he said, and headed out.


	11. Chapter 11

"I want them fired," Punk growled, pacing the locker room back and forth. "Both of them."

It was Monday afternoon, and now that he was no longer by AJ's bedside, he was finally able to rant and rave about how furious he was. Zack and Kofi sat quietly and listened as he yelled, throwing cups and towels around the room. His friends knew he could normally control his anger, but situations like these were exceptions. The room was empty but for the three of them, as no one else was brave enough to listen to Punk and had quickly vacated the locker room when he'd arrived. As they waited for a lull in his raging to console him, there was a knock on the door.

"Punk, calm down," said Triple H, walking into the room clad in his suit and tie.

"I can't!" Punk snapped, turning to face him. "They _planned _that bullshit, and you know it! Lauranitis hates me because I'm not a lapdog, and Bryan hates me because he's delusional and thinks I stole his woman, so they planned to hurt her and now they're getting away with it! How is that okay?"

"You're forgetting what happened _after_ AJ got hurt," Triple H reminded him. "You beat the shit out of Bryan. You almost broke his ribs. He wanted you arrested, Punk. He wanted to sue. So I had to make a deal on your behalf. He doesn't get fired for what happened with AJ, and you don't get fired or arrested for what you did to him in retaliation. And you know as well as I do that there's no way we'd ever able to prove that any of this was done on purpose."

Punk's fists tightened at his side. "And what about John?" he asked through gritted teeth. "He allowed this to happen. He made AJ come to ringside. He put a pregnant woman in danger."

"That was out of line," Triple H conceded, "and he's being dealt with. He's being heavily fined."

"Fined," Punk echoed, nodding. "He's being fined for almost killing someone. If it had been Stephanie, John would have been beheaded that very night. But it never would have been Stephanie, because he never would have fucked with your family! But I'm not in a position of power, so-"

"It's the best I can do!" Triple H cut him off abruptly. "You're lucky you're not in sitting in jail or on a bench for six months!" He sighed heavily. "Look, I'm sorry about what happened. For what it's worth, I'm glad she's all right. But my hands are tied. I can't be everyone's friend anymore. I have to do what's best for business, and you and Bryan both remaining on the roster is best for business."

"You used to care," Punk muttered. "You used to make things right. But we're not people to you anymore. It's just a business." Shaking his head, he walked out of the room.

Triple H glanced at Kofi and Zack, who were still sitting silent, stunned. "Make sure he doesn't kill anyone. At least not on TV."

"We tried to last week," Kofi said. "I think we're the only reason Daniel is still alive."

Triple H nodded. "Just keep that up, will you?" He clapped a hand on Zack's shoulder. "Maybe you'll even get to be on RAW soon."

"Don't get my hopes up," Zack muttered.

* * *

"So what do you want?" Colt asked.

"Huh?" AJ asked, turning her head to look at him. "What do you mean?" They were sitting on the bed, halfway through the first season of Ninja Turtles. There was a partially-devoured bowl of popcorn resting between them.

"Boy or girl," he clarified.

"Oh." She sat up straighter, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. "I don't even know anymore," she admitted, after a moment of thought. "Before, I was hoping for a girl. But after what happened, I don't even care about the gender. I just want it to get here healthy."

"And to be Punk's," he pointed out before he could stop himself.

"Yeah," she whispered, looking down.

He sighed, feeling terrible for saying that. "Fuck, I'm an asshole." He was silent for a moment. "If it makes you feel any better, he's going to raise it as his no matter what happens. You know that."

"I know," she said quietly, "but how is that fair to him? Raising a child that isn't his, out of obligation to me?"

"He doesn't feel obligated. He's doing it because he loves you. Trust me, AJ. I've known this bastard for way too long. He's never fallen this hard, this fast, for anyone."

"But what if it's not his?" she pressed. "How can he look at a face that isn't his, every day, but act like everything's okay and normal?"

"He's tougher than you're giving him credit for. He can-"

"It's not about being tough!" she cried. "It's- it's my fault! I put him in this position by being stupid. That's what I do; I mess up everyone's life! Here you are babysitting me when you could be working a show or something, and I'm costing you a payday because I can't even take care of myself!"

"AJ, that's not-" Colt started, but she had already struggled her way off the bed and locked herself in the bathroom. Groaning, he went to knock on the door. "AJ, come on out. You need to be in bed."

"I'm sitting on the floor," she whimpered through the door. "I'm fine."

"But you-"

"Just leave me alone!" she shrieked.

He sighed and sat down on the bed, just as his phone buzzed and he received a text from Punk. 'How is everything?' it read.

'Wonderful,' Colt replied. 'Just wonderful.'

Punk sat atop a large wooden crate backstage, fiddling with his phone. Colt had assured him that AJ was fine, but that didn't ease his worries. He didn't even know who he was wrestling tonight. Dolph, maybe. Or Cody. Or Alberto. Was he even wrestling, or just cutting a promo? What was it supposed to be about? He couldn't remember. All he could think about was AJ. He hated feeling this unfocused, this disorganized. It had never happened before.

A small, evil part of him wanted to blame AJ for this. But the moment quickly passed, as he knew that under normal circumstances, he wouldn't be worried about her; if not for her 'accident' with Daniel, she would be sitting next to him right now. Probably painting Superman logos on her nails. Or telling him about a butterfly that landed on her knee. Or resting her head on his shoulder sleepily. Or any of the hundreds of things she did while she was with him that made him love her even more.

He sighed and shook his head a few times, trying to clear it. Everything was going to be fine. He was going to fulfill his obligations this week and get back to AJ, who would reassure him that she was all right. But for now he had to shove his demons aside, and get to work.

He hated the fact that no one would face consequences for what happened to her- it burned him to the core. They were getting off essentially scot-free, as always. _But she's okay, _he reminded himself. _She's okay and the baby's okay. And that's what really matters. _But deep down, he knew he had to make them pay. Somehow. Someday.


	12. Chapter 12

"I'm so excited!" AJ squealed. "I can't wait."

She and Punk were sitting in the waiting room of her obstetrician's office in Chicago, waiting (rather impatiently) for her five month check-up. It was the week of Hell in a Cell, and Punk had thankfully been given a few days off in order to attend the most important appointment yet. Today, they would find out the gender of the baby.

"I'm just glad you're off bed rest," Punk said. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair; he hated waiting rooms, and he was getting a lot of uneasy looks from the many expectant mothers around him.

AJ frowned. "You're not excited to find out what we're having?" she asked with a pout.

"Of course I am," he replied, squeezing her hand reassuringly. "I just like not having to drag a wheelchair around whenever you want or need to leave the house. I like seeing you being able to stand up." It also helped that her mood swings were getting a little better, but he kept that thought to himself.

"I thought you liked seeing me on my back the most," she said, giggling.

"Oh, honey, not in public," he teased, but the thought made him blush a little.

"April?" asked a nurse, poking her head into the waiting room.

AJ nodded eagerly, bracing herself on Punk's shoulder to stand. Her ever-growing stomach made navigating difficult sometimes. Because she was petite to begin with and ate well, she had only gained about 17 pounds so far. But her stature made it very easy to see that she was heavily pregnant. She joined hands with Punk and all but pulled him into the exam room, where he helped her up onto the table and took a seat next to her.

"Stop playing with things," she scolded, slapping his hand.

"Sorry, sorry," he muttered, putting down the tongue depressor he'd been fiddling with.

"What are you, five?"

"Sometimes," he admitted. "I need to keep my hands busy and I'm not allowed to play with you right now. What do you expect me to do?" He smiled wryly at her as the ultrasound technician entered.

"I'll never get used to this stuff," AJ said, grimacing as the technician squeezed a tube of gel over her protruding stomach. She shivered. "It's too cold."

"It gets better," the technician promised, turning on the monitor and grabbed the ultrasound wand. "Let's see…" She moved it back and forth over AJ's stomach. "Growth looks good, right on schedule."

Punk watched the screen in awe. It never ceased to amaze him, the sight of the growing little creature in his girlfriend's stomach. But as always he felt a little twinge of fear, wondering if the baby really was his. He tried to shake the feeling and focus on the baby.

The technician reached over to the monitor and froze an image. "Do you want to know the gender?"

"Yes!" AJ and Punk said at the same time.

The technician chuckled and turned the monitor toward them. "It's a boy," she announced.

"Yes!" Punk crowed, pumping one of his fists in the air triumphantly.

AJ smiled, just thankful Punk was excited and that the baby was doing well. "I guess this means we're getting blue paint on the way home?" she asked.

"Hell yeah!" he replied, kissing her.

AJ laughed. "You and Colt can paint," she said. "I'll watch."

20 minutes later they walked out of the office hand in hand, holding several ultrasound printouts. "Names," he said as he helped her into the car. "We need to think of names. Any ideas? What about after me? Can we name him after me?"

"Slow down!" AJ said, but she was beaming. As excited as she was, Punk's excitement made her even happier. She had been worrying constantly, throughout her entire pregnancy, that one day he would leave and never come back, positive the baby wasn't his and that he didn't want to be with her anymore. She smiled dreamily at him, and he grinned back.

They bought two cans of blue paint and some rollers at the nearest hardware store, then swung by Colt's apartment. "I need your help," Punk told him.

"But I don't want to paint," Colt whined.

"And how many times have you used my washing machine so far this month?" Punk reminded him, raising his eyebrows.

"Good point," his best friend agreed. "All right, I'm in. But no getting any paint on me." He shook a stern finger at AJ.

They draped sheets over the furniture (all of which had been completed since their last construction adventure) and AJ sat down in the doorway, flipping through a baby name book while Punk and Colt got started on the painting. But she quickly grew tired; she did so easily these days. "I'm going to go nap for a little while," she told them, yawning as she stood. She gave Punk a brief kiss and headed to straight to bed, where she fell asleep almost instantly.

* * *

"I still feel bad about upsetting her," Colt said, dipping his paint roller in the tray.

Punk shrugged, leaning back against an unpainted wall to take a sip of his Pepsi. "It was months ago. She's over it. Besides, you didn't even really upset her. She's pregnant. Her moods dip on a dime."

"I know, but I'm trying to be chivalrous."

Punk laughed. "Whatever floats your boat, buddy." He sighed suddenly, setting his soda down.

"Something on your mind?" Colt asked.

"Same damn thing that's always on my mind," Punk answered, leaning his paint roller against the wall.

"But you're usually not actively upset," Colt pointed out.

"Don't worry about it. We're men. We don't talk about things like feelings."

"Don't pull that bullshit with me. Spit it out, macho man."

Punk sighed again; he wasn't good at this. "I've been to her ultrasound appointments before," he said, "but this one was different. Before, he was like a little peanut. This was the first time I've been able to actually… see him. It's like he's… real now. I told AJ a few months ago that we would deal with the whole paternity thing when the baby was born, but now that that's getting closer…" He shook his head. "Fuck. I'm getting scared, man. I don't know what to do. I seriously don't know what to do if he isn't mine."

"So you're scared," Colt said lightly. "That's normal."

"But my situation isn't. What if he's blond? No one in my family has blond hair and neither does anyone in hers. He'll ask questions. We wouldn't be able to keep it a secret forever. And what if Bryan changes his mind, and wants to be in his life? Or tries to take him away from me? What do I do then?"

"So you aren't sure about it after all," came a small voice from the door.

Both men whirled around to find AJ leaning against the doorframe. Punk froze, his widened eyes fixed on her. "I… thought you were asleep," he managed to squeak out. He wasn't sure he even wanted to know how long she'd been standing there, listening to them.

"You told me you could handle it," she said quietly. "Were you lying?"

"No!" he replied quickly. "No. I just… I get scared sometimes."

"I shouldn't have brought this on you," she said, and hurried out of the room.

"AJ, wait!" Punk hurried after her, but she'd locked herself in their bedroom. She came out a moment later with a small rolling suitcase. "Baby, no, please. You don't have to leave, we can talk about this, I'm sorry-"

"I shouldn't be here," she muttered, tears streaming down her face.

"At least let me carry that," he begged, trying to wrench the suitcase away from her. "You're pregnant. You shouldn't be lifting things."

But she wouldn't let him. She hauled the bag down the stairs, grabbing her car keys from the kitchen counter. "I'll call you eventually," she whispered, walking out the door. He followed her, watching helplessly as she got into the car and began to drive away.

"You can't leave me like this!" he yelled after her, standing in his driveway. "You can't! I love you! AJ! _April!_! I love you!"


	13. Chapter 13

By Friday, Punk had officially lost it.

He hadn't slept or ate in the two days since AJ had left him. He spent most of his time sitting on the floor in his bedroom, staring at a framed picture of the two of them. He felt as though his heart had been torn out through his chest, leaving a gaping hole in its wake. He didn't answer any phone calls or texts; the only person he wanted to talk to hadn't contacted him.

After AJ took off, Colt hadn't been sure what to do. So he finished painting the nursery, let it dry, and put the furniture back in place. He didn't know if seeing the completed room would make Punk even more upset, but he couldn't stand to leave the project unfinished. When he was done he tried to talk to Punk, but his best friend wouldn't say a word to him. Colt only left when Punk threw a book at him from across the room.

"I'm gonna call later, and I'll be back," Colt had warned as he ducked out of the room.

But Punk was in the same place Colt had left him when his former tag team partner returned, leaning against the bed, staring at that damn picture. "Get a hold of yourself!" Colt demanded, snatching the frame from Punk's tattooed hands. "Stop acting like a teenager."

"Give it back," Punk growled, looking at him with bloodshot eyes. They were the first words he'd spoken since screaming down his driveway at AJ's car.

"No," Colt said firmly, setting it down on the dresser behind him. "I've called you like 15 times. I thought you were dead, man. What's going on with you? Get it together. I've never seen you like this before. It's… weird, to say the least." Seeing the WWE champion like this scared him; Punk had never lost it like this. Not after other break-ups, not after injuries, not even after deaths in the family. Their friendship had always been based in humor. Very rarely did they have to help each other through such hurdles. But today was different.

"She left me," Punk muttered. "She fucking left me." He tried to stand, but ended up crashing back to the floor; he had very little energy. He reached up feebly and Colt pulled him to a standing position, stepping back.

"It's probably just a mood swing," Colt said. "You said it yourself a few days ago. She's pregnant, remember?"

"But she's never left!" Punk yelled, slamming his fist on the dresser. "She would cry or lock herself in the bathroom or spend three hours on the phone with Kaitlyn but she's never _left _before. She… she hasn't called." Desperation and fear were creeping into his voice. "What if… what if she never comes back? What if she thinks I don't love her? Fuck! She thinks I don't love her. She thinks I… _Fuck_!" He turned and punched the wall, his fist chipping through the drywall.

"Then show her," Colt said simply. He didn't bother trying to intercept Punk's fist; he knew it would likely result in a punch in the face.

"How?" Punk snapped.

"I think you know."

And just like that, the light bulb went off went off in his head. "I have to go," Punk said quickly, looking around the room frantically for a shirt. "I need to get something."

"Relax," Colt said. "Shower first. Eat something. Then go."

Punk nodded. "Right."

* * *

"I don't know what to do," AJ said, tracing circles on her stomach. "I just don't think he's ready." She was lying on the bed in her hotel room, just outside the city of Chicago. She'd been there since Wednesday, and had spent much of her time on the phone with her best friend, Kaitlyn.

"He's just scared," Kaitlyn said. "He's a guy. All guys are scared when their girlfriends or wives are having a baby. Especially in his position! He doesn't even know if-"

"I know," AJ cut her off. "But he told me it didn't matter, that we would figure it out, and then I heard him talking to Colt. I've put all of this stress on him that he never asked for. Maybe it's better this way."

"It doesn't matter what he said or how much he believes it," Kaitlyn pointed out. "He's still going to be scared or unsure. It doesn't mean he doesn't love you, or doesn't want the baby. He was just voicing his concerns to his best friend. That's all."

"But what if-" AJ paused as her phone beeped. "Hold on, I got a text." She put the call on hold to check it; it was from Punk. 'Come to Hell in a Cell,' it read. 'Please. I have something to say to you, and it has to be in person.' "It was Punk. He wants me to go to the pay-per-view and talk to him."

"Do it!" Kaitlyn said excitedly.

"I don't know," AJ said. "I'm scared."

"So is he! Be scared together. "

"What if he doesn't want me?"

"Stop with your what-ifs! If he didn't want you, he wouldn't want you to go talk to him, would he?"

"Unless he just wants to break up with me in person."

"Do I have to go over there and drag you to Atlanta myself? Because I will. I'll fly out there right now, throw your ass in a car, and-"

"Okay, okay, I'll go," AJ said, chuckling slightly. Then she sighed. "I hope no one hurts me. I haven't been to a show in months, not since… well, you remember."

"Are you kidding? After what happened, everyone's going to tip-toe around you. Daniel will probably stay on the other side of the arena. You'll be fine. The only thing you'll have to worry about is sabotaging yourself like you always do."

"I do not!"

"Yes, you do. Promise me you'll hear him out?"

"I will." She laughed again. "Since when were you his cheerleader, anyway?"

"Since I saw how happy he makes my best friend, and how well he treats her."

"He does," she agreed. "So well. Better than anyone has treated me, ever."

"Looks like I don't even have to make you promise."

"Shut up." But she was smiling.

"See you Sunday?"

"See you Sunday. Bye, Kait." She hung up, leaning back against her pillows and staring at her phone background- a promotional picture of her and Punk. Taking a deep breath, she texted him back. 'See you Sunday,' she wrote. 'Don't break my heart.'


	14. Chapter 14

Sunday just couldn't come fast enough.

After running his errand, Punk spent every second he could perfecting his plan for AJ at the pay-per-view. He called Triple H, who quickly OK'd the idea, wanting to make it up to the champion after not being able to help him a few months earlier. Before Punk's triple threat Hell in a Cell match with Dolph Ziggler and The Miz, he would be allowed a few minutes for a promo.

He flew into Atlanta on Sunday night, and spent a few hours in the hotel's gym to take his mind off how nervous he was. Kofi could tell his friend was on edge, and tried to talk to him that night as they worked out together.

"Come on," Kofi said as he jogged at a reasonable pace on the treadmill. "We're road wives. That means you're obligated to tell me why you've been acting like a diva."

"All our road marriage means is that you can't testify against me in court," Punk said. He was lifting weights. "Communication was never part of the arrangement. That's why I picked you."

"Can we make an exception, just this once?" Kofi asked. "I've never seen you so…"

"Tense?" Punk said helpfully. "Stressed? Going insane? About to spontaneously combust?"

"Sure. Any of those. Whatever. Talk."

"You know, that's all I've been hearing lately from you and Colt. Talk. Talk, talk, talk."

"Stop changing the subject!" He took a sip from his water bottle. "It's about AJ, isn't it? She dumped your ass because you're afraid of commitment or something."

"I… don't know," Punk admitted. He quickly went through Wednesday's events, giving Kofi an overview of his conversation with Colt, how AJ had overheard them. "So she left. Up and walked out. We didn't break up, but I don't know where we stand."

"So you've got something extreme planned to win her back," Kofi said, nodding.

"How did you know?"

"Because I know you. You're a 'go big or go home' kind of guy."

"I've become so fucking predictable."

Kofi laughed. "I'm not even gonna ask what you're doing, man. I told you this awhile ago, but I'm gonna tell you again, in case you forgot. Do this right."

* * *

When AJ arrived at the arena, Punk was nowhere to be found.

She was greeted with surprise by everyone she passed; no one but Kaitlyn had expected her to be there. She asked every member of the roster and every tech she happened upon if they'd seen Punk, but no one knew where he was. She finally marched right up to the men's locker room and knocked loudly.

"What's up?" Zack asked, stepping outside.

"Where's Punk?" she demanded angrily. "He asked me to be here, but I can't find him and he's not answering his phone."

He fought to keep a smile off his face; he was part of Punk's plan. "He's around somewhere," the self-proclaimed Internet Champion assured her.

"In the locker room? Let me see him!"

"Not here."

"Then where?"

"Just give him some time," Zack said gently. "He's in the semi-main event and he's cutting a promo right before it. Why don't you go wait in the diva locker room until then and meet him at the ring?"

"He wants to talk in front of everyone?" AJ asked suspiciously. "He's planning something, I know it. And you're in on it!"

Zack just grinned. "You know it."

"Your catchphrase doesn't work on me. Once I figure out what's going on, I'm going to punch you." She stormed off to the diva' s locker room, where she ranted incessantly to Kaitlyn for 20 minutes.

hr

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Zack asked. He stood next to Punk at the curtain, waiting for the champion's cue.

"I'm sure," Punk said, nodding. His hands were clutched firmly at his sides. 'Cult of Personality' began to play and he bounded out onto the stage, mic in hand. The crowd was ablaze with excitement; he smiled at a young fan near the ramp holding a sign that read 'In Punk We Trust'. He climbed into the ring and stood in the center, waiting for the cheers to die down.

"This is the first and last time I'm ever going to do this," he began, "so bear with me." He looked down for a moment. "I don't usually put myself out there like this, because what goes on inside my head is none of your business. I don't do that. I'm not that guy. But this time is different. This is the _only_ time, though, so don't get used to it." He scratched the back of his neck nervously. "AJ, come on down. I need to talk to you for a minute."

There was a brief moment of silence before AJ's theme song filled the arena, and his knees almost buckled when he heard it. She came down the ramp slowly, trying to balance as she walked. The crowd howled when they saw her; Punk could only assume that fans hadn't really believed she was pregnant. Seeing her bare stomach confirmed it.

He hurried out of the ring to help her up the steps, holding the ropes open so she could climb through and leading her to the middle of the ring. She was biting her lip as she looked up at him, her bright eyes looking to be on the verge of tears. He reached out to stroke her cheek gently, his hand shaking slightly. "We've had a rough few months, haven't we?" he asked, when the arena became quiet enough for him to speak.

She only nodded in reply.

"I know that sometimes, you question my commitment to you," he continued. "And why wouldn't you? I don't look like a loyal family man, do I? I've never seemed like the type to settle down and have kids. I never really thought I was, either. But… that changed. And by doing this in front of millions of people, I'm making sure you'll never question my love for you ever again." He dropped to one knee and for the first time since coming to the ring he uncurled his left fist, revealing a small black box. He opened it, and inside was a small diamond that sat atop a gold band. "Will you marry me?"

AJ's hands flew to her mouth as tears filled her eyes, the crowd around them absolutely erupting. She was frozen for a moment, staring down at him. "Are you sure?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Her hand fell to her stomach.

"I've never been so sure," he said firmly. "Now please say yes so I can go back to looking like a man."

"Yes," she squeaked.

"What's that?" he asked loudly. "I can't hear you."

"_Yes_!"

Grinning, he slid the ring on her finger and stood up as she threw her arms around him. He picked her up and spun her around, then kissed her. "Mine forever?" he whispered in her ear, too quietly for the ring mics to pick up.

"Forever," she whispered back.


	15. Chapter 15

"_So now they're getting married," Daniel droned. "This doesn't change a thing. CM Punk is a fool. He still thinks the baby is his. He's blinded by ignorance! You all are! I'm still going to take him apart. He thinks he can walk all over everyone with his precious title, like he's better than everyone else. But you're not, Punk! You're nothing! I'm taking that belt, and it's going to be mine!"_

Daniel had cut that promo about three months ago, the night after Hell in a Cell. Punk had (predictably) retained his title and was again on top of the world. Watching the two of them-and hearing everyone talk about them-was infuriating. The scathing looks he got from most of the roster because of the 'incident' with AJ didn't help, either.

He had also been thinking quite a bit about the impending birth of a baby that very well could end up being his. He didn't want to be a father, but what if he was? He supposed he could just give up his parental rights and have nothing to do with the kid, but what kind of person would that make him? Certainly no worse than everyone else already thought he was.

He shook his head, staring down at his feet. Elimination Chamber was in two weeks. He was supposed to lose to Punk, again, only to challenge him at Wrestlemania. And lose. Again. All while Punk gloated, right to his face.

He had watched the footage of the proposal at least fifty or sixty times, usually with a glass of strong whiskey. He never used to drink before this, but recent events had given him a new perspective on alcohol. It dimmed his anger and helped him sleep.

"You should try this shit sometime," he said to the screen. He raised his glass as he again watched CM Punk slide a ring onto AJ's finger.

* * *

"Are you sure you don't want to get married before he's born?" Punk asked.

AJ shook her head. "I don't want to look fat in my wedding dress," she answered, flipping through a bridal magazine. "Besides, he'll look cute in a baby tuxedo." They were sitting outside the locker room at Elimination Chamber, waiting for the show to start. At almost eight months pregnant, AJ's stomach was round and protruding. She'd gained 23 pounds so far- somewhat on the low side, but not surprising as she was quite small to begin with.

"You're not fat," Punk reminded her for the hundredth time that day. "You're pregnant."

"I know, I know." She sighed, rubbing her stomach. "Come out already, you. I want to meet you. And be able to drink soda again. And wear jeans without this stupid elastic band thing."

"Not yet. He's still got another month and change to cook in there." He patted her stomach gently.

"Don't touch! It's been feeling weird all day."

He froze. "Weird like contraction weird?" he asked, alarmed.

"I… don't think so. I think I'm just feeling big."

"All right. I've gotta go. You'll be here when I get back to nurse me back to health?"

She smiled. "Always."

Being the champion, Punk was the last one to make his entrance to the Elimination Chamber. He would be facing Dolph Ziggler, Jack Swagger, The Miz, and Daniel Bryan. The line-up was not vastly different from last year, but it didn't matter to him. All five of them worked well together, and it would be an entertaining match. He was supposed to win, of course, so he could go on to have his next championship brawl with Daniel at Wrestlemania. It would be a good night.

That was the original plan, anyway.

So far he had eliminated Swagger and Miz, and Daniel had done away with Dolph. They were nearing the endgame, at about 28 minutes into the match. Punk was preparing to climb the ropes to hit Daniel-who lay motionless in the center of the ring-with his signature elbow drop, when he heard the crowd erupt around him. He turned to see Zack running down the ramp, looking frantic.

"AJ went into labor!" Zack yelled.

Punk froze in place. "Are you serious?" he cried. "I'm- I'm in the middle of a match!"

"Well, he's not waiting! Hurry up!"

Punk turned back to face Daniel. His intention was to quickly pin his opponent and run off, but Daniel wasn't lying down anymore. Before Punk could even process what was happening, he was on the floor and seeing stars; Daniel had hit him with a particularly vicious and very real roundhouse kick, directly to the side of his head. He felt his leg move as Daniel grabbed it to pull it back, and the mat beneath him vibrate as the referee smacked it three times. The bell rang, slowly and off-kilter, as everyone involved (time-keeper and referee alike) knew that this was not how this match was supposed to end.

"YES!" the new champion yelled, releasing Punk and jumping up to celebrate. "YES! YES!"

Punk's head was still spinning as he sat up, slowly, rubbing his now aching temple. "Wha… what happened?" he mumbled. He was dimly aware of Daniel standing next to him, raising the title belt above his head in triumph. He watched as the chamber was unlocked.

"Come on!" Zack said quickly, running into the ring and grabbing his arm.

"Huh?" Punk asked, wincing as his spiky-haired friend yanked him to a standing position.

"Your fiancé is having a baby, you idiot! We have to go!"

"But- but my title-"

"No time! Come on!" Zack shoved him out of the ring and all but dragged the still very confused Punk up the ramp. He led the now former champion back to the locker room. The room was empty but for AJ, who was lying on the floor on a bunch of towels, Kaitlyn, and two paramedics.

"_She's having the baby_?" Punk cried, finally returning to his senses.

"I told you that already!" Zack snapped.

"Can we get her to the hospital?" Punk asked, kneeling down beside his screaming, sweating fiancé. She tried to slap him but her hand fell tragically short of his face.

"No time," one of the paramedics said. "The contractions are a minute apart."

"But she's only eight months! And how? She wasn't even having contractions before. How-" He cut himself off, remembering the pain AJ had described to him earlier.

"It's happening, so hold her hand and try not to pass out," the medic said. He positioned himself at AJ's legs.

"But we're in New Orleans," Punk whined helplessly. He was incredulous. He couldn't believe this was happening. "He was supposed to be born in Chicago."

"Shut up!" AJ snapped. "Where were you?"

"I was wrestling! How could I have been here?"

"I'm going to kill you," she growled. But she grabbed his hand all the same, squeezing it so hard that her nails drew blood from his palm. She cried out in pain, throwing her head back as she gasped through another sharp contraction. "I can't do this," she breathed. "I can't."

"Yes you can," Punk said firmly, regaining his senses. He needed to shove his disbelief aside for now and be supportive of her, despite the fact that his heart was beating a mile a minute.

"_I'm not giving birth in a locker room at a wrestling show_!"

"I don't think you have a choice," Punk said, kissing her forehead. "Come on, you're doing great."

"Push," the medic commanded.

Four minutes later, a screaming baby boy made his way into the world. They handed Punk a pair of scissors to cut the umbilical cord, and he watched in awe as the brand new infant was wiped off and wrapped in a towel. The medic put him in AJ's arms, and Punk put an arm around her shoulder.

"He's perfect," AJ whispered. "I think he looks like you."

"I hope so," Punk muttered, staring into the eyes of the baby he hoped so desperately was his son. He heard a snap, and looked up to see Zack standing a few feet away with his iPhone pointed at them.

"First family photo," Zack chuckled.

"I swear, if you put that on the internet I'm going to shave your head while you sleep!" Punk called as Zack ran off.

"Kill him later," AJ said, nodding her head to the door. The medics had returned with a stretcher. "Looks like we're on our way to the hospital."

"What do you want to name him?"

"Phillip," she said, smiling sweetly at the baby.

"But what if-"

"I don't care," she cut him off. "His name is Phillip."

Punk nodded. He looked at the baby in her arms, smiling. "Hey, little guy. I'm your daddy."


	16. Chapter 16

"Calm down," Kofi demanded.

"I can't," Punk muttered, rubbing the bruise on his temple. He was pacing outside the room. AJ and baby Phillip were both sound asleep, several hours after having arrived at the hospital. It was nearly two in the morning, the baby having been born shortly after 11 PM. The birth certificate had yet to be filled out, as the DNA test wouldn't be back until tomorrow morning. Punk had insisted to AJ that the results didn't matter, that he would be the baby's father no matter what, but that didn't make him any less nervous. His hair was dark and his eyes looked like they would turn out to be a light color, and that gave Punk hope.

"So what if he's not biologically yours?" Kofi asked. "You love him anyway."

"I know I do." He thought of his son's face; it was beautiful.

"Come on. Take advantage of the fact that they're sleeping, and go back to the hotel and change. You look ridiculous here."

It was true; this was the second time he had rushed to the hospital with AJ, wearing only his tights. So he let Kofi drive him to the hotel, where he took a much-needed shower and changed into street clothes. He packed AJ something to change into, and only then did it occur to him that they had no clothes or anything else for the baby; everything was back home, in Chicago, as they hadn't expected him to be born for another four weeks (thankfully, Phillip had suffered no ill effects from arriving early). But when he returned to the hospital, he found that someone had already gotten him covered. Waiting in the room was a cardboard box, containing a pack of diapers, a bottle, a blanket, and several Best in the World onesies from the merchandise stand. It came with a note: 'Good luck. –Zack'

He smiled and folded the note, setting the box on the table and going to check on Phillip. AJ was still asleep, half-curled on the bed. But the baby was awake, staring blissfully at the ceiling. "Hey, little man," he said quietly, easing the six pound baby out of the plastic bassinet and into his arms. "How's your first night on Earth been? Pretty hectic, huh? I bet. Let's sit down and wait for your mom to wake up. I'm sure she'll feed you once she's had some rest. I'd do it myself, but I don't exactly have the right equipment for that." Just as he settled into the chair next to the bed, AJ began to stir.

"Hey," she murmured, yawning and stretching as she rolled over to face them. "How are my two favorite men doing?"

"We're just hanging out," he answered. "Sleep well?"

"You have no idea how much I needed that nap," she said. "How's your head?"

He rubbed the bruise. "Nice and tender."

"How did you get that, anyway? I kind of stopped watching."

The memory of the horrible upset at Elimination Chamber came rushing back to him. He forced himself to keep his anger in check, and calmly told her the story as he held Phillip close.

"He did _what_?" AJ cried, slamming her hand down on the bed. The sound made Phillip cry.

"Shhh," Punk muttered, bouncing him gently to soothe him.

"But he wasn't supposed to win! You were!"

"And I'm sure he's in big trouble for it. But it won't matter. We'll have a rematch at Wrestlemania and I'll win my title back, and everything will be fine. Calm down." But he really was furious- what Daniel had done was dangerous. He could have been seriously injured, had he not rolled with the kick. He could have broken his skull, or snapped his neck. The former World Heavyweight champion was having less and less of a regard for safety as time wore on.

"Sorry," she said quietly, straightening up. "I guess… I'm trying to find something else to focus on."

"So am I," he admitted. She didn't even need to tell him what she was trying to get her mind off of. "Here, why don't you feed him? I think he's hungry." He handed her the baby and sat back to check his phone, where he found a text from Colt.

'I have to find out about your kid being born by watching TV?' it read. 'Way to keep me in the loop. Congrats, asshole. Sucks about the belt, though.'

Punk chuckled. 'Thanks, jerk,' he replied.

A moment later: 'So… is he yours?'

He hesitated before replying. 'Won't know till the morning.'

Punk managed to get about an hour of fitful sleep in his chair, finally passing out from exhaustion a little after five in the morning. He was awake again shortly before the sun rose, watching AJ and the baby sleep soundly. He was surprised at how well Phillip slept; he'd been told that newborns were likely to wake several times throughout the night. He decided to tempt fate and take the baby out to hold him. He awoke but didn't cry, instead staring up at Punk curiously. He reached a feeble arm up and closed his tiny hand around Punk's index finger.

It was in that moment that Punk realized this boy was his son, blood or not.

* * *

"I'm nervous," AJ muttered, laying Phillip back down after a feeding. "What if…"

"Then we'll deal with it," Punk said. "Don't get yourself all hyped up."

It was nearly 8 AM and they were waiting for the test results, and AJ had felt every second of it. She'd tried to watch TV and talk to Punk to pass the time, but it was hopeless. She had to know. But when the geneticist walked in carrying a file, her heart started to race.

"I have some test results for you," the geneticist said. "Would you like me to go over them with you?"

AJ nodded rapidly. Punk merely gulped as the geneticist wiggled between them, and opened the file. It looked like gibberish to the two wrestlers, but the doctor quickly explained. "As you can see here," he said, "we performed a DNA analysis on the newborn as requested. With 99.9% accuracy, the baby's father is Phillip Brooks."

"_Yes_!" Punk shouted, so loudly that he woke the baby. He jumped to his feet, throwing his fist in the air triumphantly. "He's mine! He's all mine! Fuck yeah!"

"Half yours," AJ reminded him, but it came out as a squeak. She was crying so hard she could barely speak. Punk embraced her, kissing her several times in celebration before picking up Phillip.

"You're mine," he whispered, kissing his son's forehead. "You're my boy." He looked up. "Can I keep those test results? Maybe make some copies? Here, give me that paper. And the birth certificate. Where's that? We need to fill that out. Now. Make it official." He called all of his friends to let them know, while AJ called Kaitlyn.

After about half an hour, their overwhelming excitement died down. The birth certificate was made official and was issued. Punk lay on the bed next to AJ, with her curled into the crook of his arm as the baby slept on his chest. "Phillip Brooks, Jr.," he said. "Welcome to the family."


	17. Chapter 17

It didn't take long for the news to reach Daniel. When it did, he felt the overwhelming need to get drunk. So he did, just barely sobering up in time for his meeting with Triple H at the arena for RAW.

His boss was furious; he berated the new champion for nearly half an hour. For going off script without clearing it with management. For being reckless. For putting Punk in danger. Blah, blah, blah. Daniel didn't care. The title loss was a blow to Punk's massive ego, and that was all that mattered. But Triple H was sure to let him know exactly what was going to happen next: Punk would challenge him tonight on RAW to a match at Wrestlemania, where Daniel would drop the title to him.

"Is that clear?" Triple H snapped.

"Crystal," Daniel growled back.

"Good. Now get out of my sight."

hr

Punk was excited for RAW tonight; he couldn't wait to throw everything in Daniel's face. The loss of his title hurt, yes; his waist felt particularly bare. But that was nothing compared to his win that morning. AJ knew how happy he was, and although she still didn't want him to leave her side, she knew he had to.

"Promise you'll hurry back," she said.

"Promise," Punk replied. "I'll only be twenty minutes away and it'll just be a few hours. Then we'll go home tomorrow."

"As a family," she said, smiling.

He nodded and smiled back, kissing her and Phillip before heading out to drive to the arena. When he arrived he was greeted by many hugs and high-fives; Zack and Kofi practically tackled him in celebration.

"So now will you stop whining?" Kofi asked.

"No more whining," Punk assured him. He looked at Zack. "Thanks for the care package." He clapped them each on the shoulder before going to the locker room to change into his tights. He basked in celebration with his friends until the show started, where Punk was the first one out.

He was all smiles as he headed to the ring, much to the crowd's surprise. He climbed over the ropes easily, feeling a little strange without his title weighing him down, but he took it in stride. A tech handed him a mic and he stood in the center, waiting for the noise to die down. "Hey, Danny!" he called. "Come on down, Danny Boy. I have something to tell you!"

Daniel celebrated his way down to the ring, shouting 'YES!' and jumping as he went. His grin was a mile wide as he slid under the ropes, making an exaggerated show of how heavy the belt around his waist was. "And what's that you've got to tell me, _former _champ?" he asked.

"Cute," Punk said. "Anyway, as you probably know, my fiancé had a baby last night. Right back there in the locker room, in fact. It's a boy. And just to shut you up, we had a little test done." He reached into his boot and pulled out a wadded up piece of paper, unfolding it with care. "Want to see it? That's okay; I'll sum it up for you. _He's mine_!" He threw the paper in Daniel's face, who caught it and ripped it in half in disgust. "What, you think you're special because you're wearing a title around your waist that still has my name on it? Get real, Goat Face. The only reason you won is because I was distracted. A fluke. You're not going to have that luxury at Wrestlemania, pal. That's right, Wrestlemania. That's when you'll be facing me next, and that's when I'll be taking my title back. So have fun wearing it for the next two months, because it'll be the only time you'll ever get that privilege."

Daniel was stunned, taking several steps back. But he quickly recovered. "All of these sound like the words of a man who is _jealous_. You- you really think anyone here actually believes the drivel coming out of your mouth? You're furious! I took from you what's rightfully mine. And now you're trying to hide it behind all of this false baby happiness. You think anyone believes _that_, either? Of course not! You got AJ pregnant, and now you're stuck with both of them. Whatever false sense of pride you're feeling right now isn't going to last. You're not going to last in this family man role. You know why? It's because you're a punk. You always have been, and you always will be."

Punk smashed his microphone into the side of Daniel's head and a brief fight between them broke out, before they were yanked apart by security personnel. Punk ducked under the ropes and backtracked up the ramp, glaring at a smiling Daniel. He stormed off backstage, furious.

"You're letting him get inside your head," Kofi said, trying to calm his friend down.

"He has no right to say that shit," Punk growled, grabbing his bag.

"Calm the fuck down!" Kofi snapped, stopping him from leaving. "You know he's full of shit, so stop letting him get to you. Go back to the hospital, take your family home, plan your wedding, and I'll see you next week."

"You always were the sensible one."

"That's why we're road wives. Now get out of here before I start feeling sentimental again."

* * *

Phillip was too young to put on a plane, so they rented a car to drive back to Chicago when AJ was discharged from the hospital on Tuesday morning. She had seen the promo on TV the previous night, but she said nothing about it; she didn't even want to entertain the thought that Punk was only with her out of obligation. But after hours and hours of driving, the thought began creeping in.

"We are getting married, right?" she asked, glancing back at Phillip in the back seat. It was nearly 1 AM, and they were still another hour from home.

"Of course," Punk replied, looking at her briefly before turning his attention back to the road. "Why would you think otherwise?"

She shrugged, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. "I don't know," she said. "Just making sure."

"You're worried about what Bryan said, aren't you?" She hesitated before nodding, and he sighed. "Do you really think that? That I'm just a punk? Or that I'm with you because I was trapped?"

"Not really. But…" She hesitated again, feeling awful for even thinking about it. "It does make sense sometimes. You were in a lot of relationships before me. And none of them lasted."

"Well, there's an easy answer to that," he said simply. "There was something wrong with them. All of them."

"And what was that?"

He smiled. "They weren't you."


	18. Chapter 18

"Are you sure you don't mind this plan?" Punk asked.

"Of course not," AJ answered. "I love it. Why wouldn't I?"

"Well, don't women always have their perfect wedding fantasy?"

"I'm sure they do, but I don't. I don't want anything big and fancy and flashy."

"But still," he pressed. "Our backyard? You're really okay with that? You're not going to throw this back in my face in a few years? Screaming 'you never gave me a beautiful wedding!' while throwing an ironing board at me?"

She laughed. "No, that's not going to happen. I'm fine with this, really. I like this idea."

It had been about month and a half since Phillip was born, and Punk had been doting on his newborn son as though he were made of sunlight. Leaving him and AJ to work RAW and house shows absolutely killed him, so he would leave as late and come back as early as he could and still fulfill his obligations. He tweaked his schedule to include less media days, so he could be home as much as possible. His schedule didn't leave much time for wedding preparations, so he left that to AJ. She devised a simple, easy plan that worked with his schedule. They would marry the week before Wrestlemania, on a Saturday. It was now the day before, Friday, March 29th.

"As long as you're sure," he said. He pulled Phillip out of his swing to feed him a bottle.

"I'm sure about the wedding, just not the way I'll look in the dress," she muttered, pinching her stomach with a frown.

"Will you stop with that? You've already lost almost all of your pregnancy weight. You weigh, what, 99 pounds now? You don't look any different from before you were pregnant. So quit it. You'll look beautiful."

She looked at a picture of her dress on her phone; sleek, simple, and white. It was hanging in the closet upstairs, next to Punk's suit. "I hope so," she said, staring at the screen. She looked up at Punk and smiled. His attention was all on Phillip now, who was staring up at his father as he ate. "You know, he looks just like you. He's like a little clone. Your mom showed me your baby pictures the other day. Every feature the same."

"And you have no idea how happy that makes me," he said, smiling sweetly at his son.

* * *

The next morning, best man Colt came over bright and early to help Punk get the backyard ready. They set up an 'altar' of sorts near the fence, under a small canopy covered in flowers. Then they put out some chairs, and a table near the house to eat afterward.

"I can't believe you're getting married, man," Colt said as they finished, surveying the finished backyard.

"Neither can I," Punk assured him. "Weird, isn't it?"

"You have no idea."

"Oh, I think I do. I'm the one getting married, remember?"

They went inside and sat in the living room, where Punk played with Phillip on the floor. Once AJ's maid of honor Kaitlyn showed up, Punk was banned from the upper floor of the house (lest he see AJ in her wedding dress before the time came). So he waited downstairs as the other guests arrived: their parents, his sisters, her brother, Zack, and Kofi. It would be a very small wedding, and that was the way they wanted it to be.

As the time drew nearer, Punk went to get dressed (he had to get Colt to fetch his suit from the closet upstairs). He dressed Phillip in what he was sure was the smallest tuxedo ever made before heading outside and handing him to Zack, where everyone was seated. His mother was already in tears; typical. Kofi stood up to straighten Punk's bowtie, which had been hopelessly misshapen before it was fixed. He posed for pictures with everyone, taken by a photographer he'd hired, who would also serve as the videographer. Just as he'd imagined it- simple.

By 1:30, Punk was practically shaking with nervousness. He was very rarely nervous; but today was his wedding day, so he made an exception. What if she backed out at the last minute? What if she decided she didn't love him after all, and left him standing at the altar? A thousand different worries raced through his mind, but they were all banished when he saw Colt come around the side of the house, with AJ on his arm.

The sight of AJ in her wedding dress took his breath away; she was absolutely radiant. He broke into the biggest, most genuine smile he could ever remember having. Time slowed down as she made her way to the altar, her eyes shining with joyful tears as she looked up at him. He lifted the veil over her head, still beaming. As the justice of the peace conducted the ceremony and they slid gold bands onto each other's fingers, his eyes never left hers for a second.

By 1:40, it was over. He kissed his bride and picked her up, spinning her around much the way he had when she'd accepted his proposal. Their guests applauded, and though they were few, they made quite the noise of celebration. He grabbed Phillip and held him between them, and they each kissed one of his cheeks.

Half an hour later, it was time to cut the cake. Kaitlyn brought it out from the kitchen, plates and a knife in hand. "I'll just be a minute," AJ told her best friend. "I was so excited earlier I sort of forgot to use the bathroom." She chuckled and went around the side of the house to get to the door, when her back suddenly slammed against the wall. She gasped in pain, looking up to see a man standing over her.

"This should have been my wedding," Daniel growled, his voice low and threatening. He looked like he hadn't slept in days, and he reeked of alcohol.

She craned her neck back, trying to get as far from him as possible, but she couldn't stray more than a few inches; he had her locked to the wall. She was strong, yes, but he had more than a hundred pounds on her. "Please don't hurt me," she begged, her eyes filling with tears.

"You're mine, you understand me?" Daniel snapped. "You always have been, and you always will be!" He began tearing at her dress.

"Help!" she cried, clawing and kicking at him. "Help me!"

Punk, Zack, and Kofi came running around the side of the house, their eyes widened in alarm. "Get the fuck off of her!" Punk shouted. He tackled Daniel to the ground, flanked by Zack and Kofi. They held him down as Punk turned to grab AJ, who was a shivering mess on the ground. He picked her up and held her close as she sobbed into his chest.

"It's okay," he whispered. "You're okay. No one's going to hurt you. I'm here. I'm here." He looked at Kofi and Zack, who were restraining a writhing Daniel, pressing his face into the grass. "Someone call the cops."


	19. Chapter 19

The rest of the day was a whirl-winded nightmare. Colt had called the police and Daniel was quickly arrested for assault. Punk later got word that one of corporate's lawyers had posted bond and bailed him out the very same day. Typical; they always had to save face for the company. They would probably plead it down to some sort of misdemeanor, with a hefty fine and no jail time. He would get away with it, almost completely clean. Again.

AJ was a wreck. She locked herself in the bathroom as soon as Daniel was taken away, and wouldn't come out for anyone- not her mother, not Kaitlyn, not even Punk. So he sent their families-much to their dismay-home and put Phillip down for his nap. Their friends refused to leave, instead helping to clean up the remains of the celebration in the backyard. All the while Punk stalked about and ranted and raved.

"Where the fuck does he think he gets off, coming to Chicago and crashing my wedding?" he yelled. "And now he'll get off scot-free again, after trying to fucking rape my wife!" He kicked the nearest chair, sending it flying across the backyard. It narrowly missed hitting Kofi, who was folding up a table.

Colt merely sighed, going to retrieve it. "Can you lay off damaging the furniture for a little while?" he asked. "I was trying to stack that."

"Why is no one but me taking this seriously?" Punk snapped.

"We are taking it seriously," his best man assured him. "We're just trying not to make it any worse for AJ. You saw her, man. She's freaked out enough as it is. The last thing she needs is to have more flashbacks because you can't control your temper."

Punk looked down, ashamed. It hadn't even occurred to him that his fury was making AJ even worse. "Fuck, I'm retarded," he muttered, twisting the wedding ring that had sat on his finger for only a few hours now. "Even on my wedding day." He shook his head.

"Relax," Colt said. "Give yourself a break once and awhile, huh? Go check on your kid or something. We got the rest of this."

Punk nodded and headed inside. He fed Phillip and changed him-two acts that were now second nature to him at this point-and put him in his swing in the kitchen, where Kaitlyn was cleaning up.

"Any word?" he asked.

Kaitlyn shook her head. "She won't answer me," she said. "I tried again about 15 minutes ago. She still won't come out. "

Punk sighed, ripping his bowtie off and throwing it on the counter. "What ever happened to the cake we never cut, anyway?" He shrugged out of his jacket, letting it fall on the chair behind him.

"It's in the fridge," Kaitlyn answered.

The clean-up effort was over about an hour later. Punk thanked everyone, and they only left after he insisted several times that he would take care of AJ and update them later. With the house finally empty, he fed his son again and put him back to bed. Then he went into his bedroom, sitting down against the wall that separated the room from the bathroom.

"AJ?" he said, knocking a few times. "Can I come in?"

"No," she muttered, her voice barely audible through the door.

"Please?" he begged. "It's our wedding day. I want to see you."

"Our wedding was ruined!" she cried.

"No it wasn't. It was great! We got the important part out of the way. We even got pictures and video of it. You looked beautiful. You still do." He tried not to sigh; he wasn't good at this.

"No I don't," she growled.

"You know, I could get in here any time," he reminded her. "This lock is pretty easy to pop open. So you might as well let me in."

"Is everyone gone?"

"Yep. The house is all ours again. It's just me. And Phillip, but he's asleep."

He heard her shift about the bathroom for a moment before the doorknob turned, the door swinging open a few inches. He stood up and opened it all the way, entering the bathroom. AJ was sitting against the counter, the sheer white fabric of the bottom of her dress curled under her. Her face was streaked with dried tears. He sat down next to her, inching his hand into hers.

"Hey," he said quietly.

"Hey," she muttered back.

"Are you feeling any better?" he asked, rubbing her hand gently.

"Better than earlier."

"You know, I'm never going to let him hurt you," he said. "Never again."

"That's what you said last time," she whispered.

"This… wasn't exactly something I could prepare for," he said, but it broke his heart and enraged him at the same time that she thought he couldn't keep her safe. "But it will never happen again. I promise."

"Promise?"

"Promise." He patted her thigh. "Come on, let's get out of here. Sitting on tile sucks. I don't know how you did this for hours." He stood up and extended his hand, pulling her to her feet. He led her into their room, where they stood facing each other.

"So we're really married," she said, twisting the wedding band on his finger. "What happens now?"

"I'm not sure," he admitted. "Whatever you want."

"Well… I think I want to make it up to you." She looked up at him innocently, but she had a devilish glint in her eyes that told another story.

"Make it up to me?" he echoed. "For what? You didn't do anything. Nothing that happened today was your fault."

"It's our wedding night. I want it to be special."She began to unbutton his shirt.

"You don't have to-"

"Shhh," she whispered, putting a finger to his lips.

So he let her undress him, chuckling slightly as she fumbled with his belt. "What's the matter?"

"You still sort of intimidate me a little," she admitted sheepishly, looking up at him with small smile.

He laughed again. "Really? After all this time?"

She answered by shoving him back onto the bed, stepping back to unzip her dress. She let it fall to the floor, the fabric landing in a puddle around her feet.

He let out a low whistle. "Wow," he muttered, eyeing her up and down.

She chuckled, imitating him. "Intimidated?" she asked, winking. Before he could answer she climbed on top of him, pulling him against her into a long, searing kiss. Then she pushed him back down, his hands coming up to encircle her back.

"So what are you going to do to me?" he asked. He reached up to stroke her cheek, swallowing hard. She was braced over him, her eyes fixed on him with insatiable need.

"Rock your world," she whispered back, her voice laced with desire.

Twenty minutes later she collapsed onto his chest, both of them panting and covered in sweat. "How was that?" she asked, upon regaining the ability to speak.

"That was nice," he answered dreamily.

"Nice?" she repeated. "I ride you like that and all you can give me is _nice_?"

"Hey, give me a break!" he said, laughing. "I just had sex for the first time in almost a year and my mind is still… Well, you know where my mind is." He kissed the top of her head. "You were amazing, baby. Believe me."

She smiled. "I believe you."

He held her close against him. "I love you," he said. "I'm going to keep you safe and love you forever, okay? I promise." And he knew exactly how he was going to do that. He just hoped she didn't hate him for it.


	20. Chapter 20

Wrestlemania. The World Series of wrestling.

It had been quite the week for Punk. Fan Axxess, doing signings and photo ops both with AJ and alone. Radio and TV interviews. Tons of questions- about losing the title, the baby, getting married, his upcoming match with Daniel. He tried to vary his responses so every interview didn't sound cut-and-pasted, but by Saturday he was certain he was repeating himself. AJ assured him that it didn't matter, that only Sunday was really important. And he knew she was right; it really was all about Sunday.

He had never been nervous at Wrestlemania. Not when he'd gone up against Chris Jericho at Wrestlemania 28, or Randy Orton the year before that, or Rey Mysterio even earlier. Wrestling in front of 80,000 people only fueled his need to put on the best show possible even more. But this year was different. This year, he would be facing a man who had once been one of his best friends. A man who once was light-hearted and kind, a persona that was a slim shadow of its former self. This man was nothing like the one Punk had befriended ten years ago. He was dangerous now.

And Punk was going to take him out of the equation for good.

He hadn't even bothered whining or ranting to Triple H and demanding Daniel's head on a platter; it hadn't worked before, and it wouldn't work now. He knew he had to take matters into his own hands.

Sunday morning came too fast. Punk and AJ left Phillip at her grandparents' house in Union City; backstage at Wrestlemania was no place for an infant. Dropping him off was hard for AJ, as she'd never been away from him for more than a few hours. She wept on the drive to the Met Life stadium, and Punk did his best to comfort her, but his mind was elsewhere. He could barely focus on anything else but his match that night, and what he had to do.

He hadn't slept well in days, just thinking about it. He wavered back and forth on the decision, spending hours and hours weighing the pros and cons of his plan. He'd never been so torn before. There were a hundred different things that could go wrong, but it was the ultimate outcome that stuck in his mind: Daniel would never be able to hurt AJ ever again. She would finally feel safe, walking backstage or standing ringside. Maybe she would stop having nightmares and flashbacks, stop wincing and shivering whenever someone called her name. And how long before Daniel started terrorizing his son, too? No, he had to do it, because he would stop at nothing to keep his family safe. Even if he hated himself afterward.

* * *

Daniel had made himself scarce the entire week. Punk and AJ didn't see much of him at all, and that was just fine with all three of them. It did concern AJ that they wouldn't be able to sit down and discuss their match, but Punk assured her that he and Daniel had worked together enough times that they could more or less read each other's minds in the ring.

As the show started, Punk changed into his ring gear and waited with AJ-dressed in her homemade Punk shirt-backstage for his cue. She would be accompanying him to the ring, and while at first he was wary about this, he realized that it would probably upset her even more to see him yelling and cursing at everyone who passed them. So he let it go, knowing it would be the last time he would ever have to.

The WWE championship match was the semi-main event, so it was a few hours of impatient waiting before Punk finally walked down the ramp to the thunderous applause of 80,000 people. He allowed himself a moment to look around the stadium in wonderment; it wasn't every day he got to see that many people chanting his name at once. He made his way to the ring with AJ at his side, giving her a long kiss before ducking under the ropes. He made a lap around the ring, taking off his shirt and tossing it into the crowd before waiting in the center.

When Daniel's theme began to play, it was greeted by a chorus of boos. This didn't surprise Punk; his opponent had been vilified ever since his 'accident' with AJ all those months ago. The champion didn't even bother to skip down to the ring, chanting 'yes!' as he usually did. He merely trudged his way down, an intense glare fixed on Punk. He got into the ring and held the belt in the air, an act that was met with even more boos.

_20 minutes, _Punk thought. _20 minutes, and I'll do it._

But 20 minutes felt like three hours. He could feel Daniel trying to be vicious with every move; everything stung far more than usual. He had to take the time to wear Daniel out, and hit him with a roundhouse kick directly to the side of the head. This disoriented him, giving Punk the opportunity to hoist him into the fireman's carry. The audience howled with approval, begging him to continue. He looked at AJ, whose hands had been clasped together the entire match. _Do it. Do it do it do it do it._ Closing his eyes briefly and biting his lip, he hit Daniel with the GTS.

But this time, it was different. Instead of gently glancing Daniel's forehead off his knee as he would normally do, Punk brought his body down hard. Daniel's neck slammed into his knee at full force before he rolled to the ground on his back. Punk quickly dropped to the mat and grabbed Daniel's leg, pulling it back for the pin. The ref made the count, and just like that, Punk was champion again. He was handed the belt and he threw his arms up in celebration, triumphant.

But something was wrong. Daniel wasn't moving, a small line of blood trickling out of his mouth. The ref quickly realized that Daniel wasn't just selling the move and signaled for the medics. Three of them dove into the ring, rushing to Daniel's side. "Can you hear me?" one of them asked. His head rolled to the side feebly. "Squeeze my hand. Come on, squeeze my hand. Bryan, squeeze my hand."

"I… can't," Daniel choked out. He coughed up more blood. The medics quickly shifted him onto a stretcher and began carrying him out of the ring.

All the while, Punk watched on in shock. Originally, he thought he would have to fake concern for Daniel, but now that he saw the result of his actions, he was horrified. He dropped to his knees and watched helplessly as they took Daniel away. He punched the mat, hard, before throwing back his head and crying out. He was aware of a presence beside him- AJ. She grabbed his shoulders in an attempt to comfort him, but he cried out again, inconsolable. "I... what have I done? _What have I done_?"

"Shhh," AJ whispered. "Come on."

He let her lead him out of the ring and up the ramp while the audience watched, stunned. Kofi approached them as soon as they got backstage but AJ quickly shook her head, warning him away. She led Punk to a bench and sat him down.

"It's not your fault," she told him firmly.

"Yes it is," he muttered weakly, shaking his head.

Punk wasn't sure how much time passed until the show was over, but when it finally broke out, AJ led him to the car. No one said a word to him on the way out. He was completely silent as she drove them back to the hotel. He could barely move, and definitely didn't let himself think. She undressed him and pushed him into the shower, gently and tenderly washing and drying him. Then she helped him put on shorts.

"It's going to be okay," she told him, drawing him down on the bed. "No one blames you."

_I do, _he thought. It was the last clear reflection he had before the world blacked out, and he fell into a nightmare-laden sleep.


	21. Chapter 21

Punk wasn't sure how long he'd been asleep when he finally jerked awake. He instinctively reached out next him, but the space beside him that AJ usually occupied was empty. He stood with alarm, running to check the bathroom; it was unoccupied. He was about to call her name when he heard her voice, slightly muffled, beyond the door to their hotel room.

"You couldn't have called?" AJ asked.

"I thought this would be a conversation best had in person," said another voice. It took Punk a moment to recognize it- Triple H.

"What's the word, then?"

"Paralyzed, from the neck down," Triple H answered.

"Wow," AJ muttered. "Wow. Do they know if it's permanent?"

"They won't know for awhile. The nerves weren't completely severed. They're considering surgery, but everything is up in the air for now." There was a pause. "But you know delivering news isn't the only reason I'm here. It's Monday."

"I don't know," she said curtly. "This hit him… really hard. I've never seen him react to anything like the way he did last night. He's not even awake yet."

"How long has he been out?"

"About twelve hours now."

"Look, AJ, the last thing I want to do is push him to a mental breakdown or something. But the fact of the matter is that he's contracted for a certain amount of appearances this year, and the post-Wrestlemania RAW is one of them. A break of contractual obligations wouldn't sit well with the board right now, especially in light of what happened last night."

"What about a 'backstage' or taped segment?" she asked. "Would that count? I don't think he's ready to be in front of people yet."

He sighed. "I… I don't know. Maybe. I guess it would, yeah. But it needs to happen soon."

"Just give me some time with him, okay?"

He grumbled. "I'm expecting a call from you," he said. "Soon."

There was a shuffling sound, and the door flew open as AJ entered the room. "Oh!" she gasped, startled. "You're awake." She paused. "How… much did you hear?"

"Enough," he said quietly. He said down on the bed, looking down.

"It's not your fault," she told him again, sitting next to him and squeezing his shoulder gently.

He didn't answer her. He couldn't. He just continued to hang his head.

"Hey, talk to me," she said, rubbing his back.

"I don't know what to say," he admitted, but then a thought occurred to him. "What about Phillip? Don't we have to pick him up soon?"

"I talked to my grandparents," she answered. "They're going to keep him for another night."

"Are you sure? That can't be easy for you." It wasn't easy for him, either.

"It isn't," she agreed, "but you need me right now. He'll be all right. Now tell me, what can I do to make you feel better?"

He shook his head. "I… don't know," he muttered. "I think I'm gonna go work out for a little while." He stood up, her hands falling from his back. He had done what he did to Daniel to keep her safe, but now he couldn't even look her in the eye. He was too ashamed. So he stood up, found his shoes and water bottle, and went down to the hotel's gym.

"What did I do wrong?" she asked quietly as he closed the door behind him.

* * *

'A little while' ended up stretching into two hours. Punk pushed himself as hard as he could, running full speed on the treadmill and adding more resistance to the machines than he ever had before. By the time he returned to the room at 2 PM, his muscles were burning and he felt exhausted.

"That was longer than a little while," AJ said as he entered. She was lounging on the bed, playing her old Gameboy. She put it down and sat up.

"Sorry," he said, sitting down to take off his shoes.

"Are you hungry?" she asked, scooting over to sit next to him. "I can order you room service or something, if you want."

He shook his head, standing up. "I'm gonna shower," he said, taking off his shorts. He disappeared into the bathroom, leaving the door ajar behind him.

AJ sighed, curling one leg under her. It pained her to see him like this. She knew he was hurting and that he felt terrible about what happened (even if it was Daniel), but she wished he would open up to her.

She got up and approached the bathroom. She was leaning against the doorframe, trying to decide whether or not to go in, when she heard quiet sobs coming from the shower. "Baby?" she said, pushing the door open. She saw Punk leaning back against the shower wall, head in his hands.

"Fuck," he snapped, looking up quickly. He shook his head several times, wiping his eyes. "You… you weren't supposed to see me like that."

"It's okay to cry," she assured him.

"No, it's not, especially over this. I'm such a…" He shook his head and wiped his eyes again. "Fuck. I don't remember the last time I cried."

"When Phillip was born," she reminded him.

"That doesn't count. You're not a man if you don't cry when your kid's born."

"And you're not less of a man when you cry after seriously injuring someone," she pointed out.

"Seriously injured?" he echoed. "I almost killed him, AJ. I almost fucking killed him. Fuck!" He slammed his hand against the wall. He shut his eyes tightly, dimly aware of the shower door sliding open and movement happening around him. When his eyes opened, she stood in front of him.

"AJ, I-" he began, but she just shook her head and wrapped her arms around him.

"You need me," she said, and kissed him.

He suddenly felt a desperate, intense need for her, and kissed her back fiercely. He pulled her against him tightly, his mouth finding its way down her neck, chest, stomach, waist, lower. She gasped, biting her lip and threading her fingers through his hair as his head bobbed around between her legs. He came back up a moment later, his eyes filled with lust for her. He hoisted her up and wrapped her legs around his waist, fitting her to him and pressing her back against the tile wall. She gasped sharply as he began to thrust in and out.

"Baby," she moaned, her head falling onto his shoulder, "I'm gonna-"

"Look at me," he demanded, his voice low.

She did, rolling her head back against the wall to keep it up. His eyes were fixed and intense, boring into hers as she cried out and raked her nails across his back. He held her up a moment more as he came, gasping and moaning into her neck. Then he fell back to the floor, landing hard on his back next to the drain. Her legs were shivering, barely holding her weight. She lowered herself slowly onto the floor next to him, resting her head on his chest as the water washed over them.

"Punk," she begged, "let me help you."


	22. Chapter 22

After filming the taped segment later that day (which consisted of a camera man knocking on the hotel room door and being shooed away), Punk was thankfully given the rest of the week off. He and AJ drove to her grandparents' house to pick up Phillip, and they took a red-eye flight home to Chicago. They arrived a little after midnight, put the baby to bed, and unpacked. But when they were finally able to settle in and relax, Punk wasn't quite sure what to do with his time. AJ begged him to talk to her, to tell her what was on his mind, so they could get past it together. But he couldn't tell her; he couldn't. There was no way she would forgive him, if she knew he'd done it on purpose.

"I'm fine," he assured her, slipping under the blanket. "I'm just tired."

"I'm going to get you to talk to me eventually," she said. "I'm your wife, you know. It's my job."

"There's nothing to talk about." He kissed her forehead. "Love you."

But she knew he wasn't fine. She heard him getting up several times during the night, waking with a sharp cry as he came out of a nightmare. She even saw him run to the bathroom to vomit once. It broke her heart to see him so tortured; it hurt even more to know he wouldn't let her help him.

* * *

Over the next few days, AJ noticed significant changes in Punk's behavior. Aside from being quiet and reserved (something that was virtually the exact opposite of her husband's normal behavior), he was acting very strange with Phillip. He would handle the baby very lightly and gingerly, as though their son were made of already fractured glass. Changing and baths took twice as long, with Punk being far more gentle than necessary.

It was almost as if Punk were afraid of hurting him.

By Friday, she was tired of tiptoeing around him. So after he put Phillip down for his afternoon nap, she cornered him in their bedroom. "Punk, you need to talk to me," she said firmly, standing in the doorway to prevent him from leaving. She knew in reality that he could very easily get past her, so her stance was more of a statement than an actual preventative measure.

"Talk about what?" he asked, raising his head to look at her.

"Whatever's going on in your head," she replied. "I know you're hurting and I know you feel terrible about what happened, but it was an accident. Botched moves happen. People get injured. It's the reality of what we do. Wrestling is dangerous sometimes. It sucks for the people it happens to, but it's not the end of the world. You can't destroy yourself over an accident."

"I'm not destroying myself."

"That's completely bullshit and you know it. You hardly sleep or eat, you barely talk to me, you're ignoring Colt's calls, and you're terrified of hurting Phillip."

"I'm not terri-"

"You hold him like an egg!" she cut him off. "You're afraid of yourself, and it's scaring me and all of our friends. I'm your wife, in case you've already forgotten what that means in the week and a half we've been married. You need to talk to me. Let me in. Let me help you."

"You can't help me!" he yelled. The anger in his voice startled her; she stepped back, fearful. "Fuck. Now look what I've done. You're scared of me."

"No, I'm not," she said quickly. "I'm just scared of how you've been acting lately. I'm worried about you." She approached him, tears filling her eyes as she touched his cheek gently. "Please, tell me how to help you! Tell me what's wrong!"

"I can't," he muttered, shaking his head rapidly. "I can't tell you. I can't tell anyone."

Her heart began to race; before, he'd never even admitted that there was anything to tell. "You can," she assured him. "You can tell me anything. Please, tell me."

"No, I can't…" He sat down on the bed, his hands shaking.

She sat down next to him, taking his hands and squeezing them. "You can tell me anything," she repeated. "Please."

"You have to promise," he said, his eyes intense as he turned his head to look at her. "You have to promise not to hate me when I tell you."

"There's nothing you could tell me that would make me hate you," she assured him, but his words made her nervous.

"Promise," he insisted.

She nodded. "I promise."

"I hurt Daniel," he said quietly. "I hurt him badly."

"Oh, baby, I know you did," she said gently, stroking his cheek again. "It's okay. It was an accident."

"No," he corrected her, shaking his head. "It wasn't an accident."

Her eyes widened. "What do you mean?" she asked carefully, tilting her head slightly.

"I… did it on purpose," he clarified, wincing as he spoke. "I… moved him so his neck would land directly on my knee, instead of bringing it up to his forehead."

"You… did it on purpose?" She let go of him, standing up and backing up slowly. The air around them suddenly felt very heavy. "How… how could you do that?" Her voice was quiet, strained with disbelief.

"I had to!" he yelled. "He was never gonna stop, AJ. He was never gonna stop trying to hurt you, trying to terrorize our family. I had to stop him!"

"So your solution was to try to kill him?" she cried.

"No, I didn't want to kill him. I didn't even try. I just wanted to… put him out of action. To make sure he wouldn't be able to corner you in a dark parking lot or land on you while you're ringside."

"But you could have! You could have killed him! You could have _killed_ a man, Punk! I know it's Daniel, but still! He's a person!"

"That's the difference between you and me. You still think of him as someone who deserves to be treated by human standards, and he's not! He's an animal!" His fists were clenched tightly at his sides in an attempt to relieve the tension running through his body.

"And by breaking his neck, what do you think that makes you?" she snapped. "It makes _you _an animal! It makes you worse than him! How could you do something like this?"

"You promised," he reminded her. "You promised you wouldn't hate me for this."

"I don't hate you, Punk! But… " She paused, looking down. "I don't know if I can be with someone who's capable of something like this."

"No, baby, don't say that," he said, putting his hands on her shoulders. "Please, don't say that. You… you said we could get through anything."

"I never thought we'd ever have to go through something like this," she said quietly. She moved away from him. "I left someone who hurt people for someone I thought would never hurt anyone, not on purpose. I… I can't stay here. I have to go."

"Go?" he echoed. "Go where? Baby, don't."

"I don't know." She was crying now, tears streaming down her face. She hurried into Phillip's room, where she began packing a bag for him.

"No," he begged. "You… you can't. You can't leave me again. You can't take him from me."

"I won't keep him for you," she said, going back into their room to get her suitcase. "But I can't be here right now." He could only watch helplessly as she packed it, slung Phillip's bag over her shoulder, and took them both to the car. She returned for the baby, who miraculously had not awoken at the sound of his parents' fight.

"Please don't leave," he begged again. "I'm sorry. I did it for you. You know I did!"

She just shook her head, putting Phillip in his car seat. "I'll call you soon, I promise," she said. She looked back at him, lingering for a moment before getting into the car, and driving away.

Punk stood in the driveway, and for the second time in his life he watched the only woman he'd ever truly loved walk straight out of it.


	23. Chapter 23

After a little while of driving around aimlessly, AJ wound up at Colt's apartment. He called Punk about two hours after she'd left, and this time, Punk answered.

"So your wife and son showed up at my apartment," Colt intoned. "The first one is crying in my bathroom and the second one is sleeping in my arms. You want to tell me just what the fuck happened that led to me not being able to use my bathroom?"

"It's… a long story," Punk replied miserably. He was sitting on the floor of Phillip's room, staring at a framed photo of the three of them that hung on the wall above his crib.

"Well, I've got all the time in the world, because I can't use my bathroom or sleep or do anything else," Colt reminded him. "So just spit it out."

"Look, I really don't want to get into it. It's been a long day."

"Why is it that for years you were the one cleaning up after my messes, and now suddenly it's the other way around?" Colt chuckled, shaking his head and shifting Phillip into a more comfortable position. "Come on, man. Tell me. It's because of Bryan, isn't it? She found out it wasn't an accident, didn't she?"

All the blood in Punk's body rushed to his ears. "How… how did you know?" he asked quietly.

"We've known each other for… what, 13, 14 years now? I can't even remember how many times I've seen you do the GTS. I probably know it just as well as you do. I also know what a botched GTS looks like, and it doesn't look like that." He paused, taking a deep breath. "Lucky for you, I'm probably the only one who knows that."

"So you know what really happened, and you're not mad at me?"

"Of course I'm mad. Bry was one of my best friends before he went on the warpath, too. But I understand why you did it, so I can't really blame you."

Punk sighed with relief. "I don't know what to do now, man. She left me for it, even though it was the hardest thing I've ever had to do and I've been killing myself over it since it happened."

"If I may, let me venture a guess. She's not upset that you were trying to protect her. She's upset that you would deliberately hurt people, just like he did, to do it."

"So how do I make it up to her?"

"The fuck am I supposed to know? You're the husband, not me. Find a way to get her back. You did it before, and it worked out just fine."

"Well, I can't exactly propose to her in the ring again. We're already married, remember?" He sighed, twisting his wedding ring idly on his finger as he often did. "Fuck. I don't know what to do anymore."

"Somehow, I don't think she's intent on staying away forever. Just don't be an asshole and she'll come around eventually. Are you going to be on RAW next week? You sort of skipped out this Monday."

"I don't have a choice… But I don't know what to say. I know they want me to talk about what happened, but what do I say? How do I even do that?"

"You're asking _me _for promo advice?" Colt laughed. "Come on, man, where's the Punker I know and sort of love out of obligation because we're practically married in a really weird but totally not gay way? You got this. Think of something."

"Like I said, I don't have a choice." He sighed again. "Take care of them, will you?"

"I will," Colt assured him. "And I hereby solemnly swear _not _to sleep with your wife while she's staying at my place."

"Well, thanks, buddy. That just makes me feel a whole lot better."

* * *

Punk spent the rest of his time until his flight out for RAW doing absolutely everything possible but thinking. He worked out for hours, rode his bike all over the city, cleaned the entire house, did every shred of laundry he could find, did yard work, washed his car… He couldn't let his mind wander, not even for a second. Because if he did, he would surely break down again.

By Sunday night, he had run out of things to do; it had been a long time since he'd had so much time off. So he took a cab to the airport and took a red-eye to the city where this week's RAW was being held. He checked into the hotel and immediately headed to the gym. Thankfully, it was deserted this late at night. He worked out until he could barely move his arms, went to his room to shower, and blasted music from his headphones for the rest of the night. He briefly considered trying to sleep, but he knew such an endeavor was impossible, so he didn't even bother trying.

In the morning, he ran into Kofi in the lobby. His good friend looked at him sadly as he approached, as though not sure what to say. He finally settled on: "How you feeling?"

"Been better," Punk answered. "But not bad."

"You're lying," Kofi noted.

"You're right," Punk agreed. "My life kind of sucks right now. What's the word around the locker room?"

"Some people have visited him in the hospital. Apparently he can move his toes, so doctors are hopeful the paralysis isn't permanent. Something about nerves and not being totally cut." He paused. "No one blames you, by the way. Everyone knows it was an accident."

Punk tried not to wince at Kofi's words. "Yeah, well, let's see what happens."

"Big promo time?" Kofi guessed.

"Like I said, we'll see."

hr

When Punk went out to the ring that night, the title belt around his waist felt heavier than usual. The crowd appeared to be surprised but happy to see him, but he couldn't look out at any of them. He proceeded down to the ring, mic in hand as he slid under the ropes. He looked down, waiting patiently for the noise to die down.

"It's been a rough week," he began. "So rough, I couldn't face all of you last Monday. I couldn't even face myself in the mirror for awhile, if you can believe that. You're probably wondering why this has all been so hard for me. I wasn't even the one who was injured, right? But things change when you hurt someone." He paused, looking down for a moment and scratched the back of his neck. "Is Daniel Bryan a _bad _guy? Maybe. His behavior over the last year has certainly made it look like that- injuring my wife, almost killing my son, crashing my wedding… Did he deserve what happened, after everything he did? I'm not even gonna go there. Look, sometimes things happen that we can't change. It shouldn't have happened, but it did, and I can't go back. And… I'm sorry." He looked straight at the camera. "I don't know if you're watching, but if you are, know that I'm sorry."

He wasn't talking to Daniel, but no one else knew that. He exited the ring to an absolute uproar.

* * *

"He wasn't talking to Daniel, was he?" AJ asked quietly, looking back at Colt.

"I don't think so," Colt agreed.

"So what do I do now?"

"I think that's up to you."

She looked down at the sleeping baby in her arms, whose sweet, dreaming face was absolutely identical to her husband's. "Every time I look at him, I see Punk," she said.

"The Brooks is strong with that one."

She couldn't help but chuckle. "It is, isn't it?"

"Are you going to talk to him?"

She looked down at her son again. "I'll try."


	24. Chapter 24

Punk didn't wrestle that night, as management wasn't quite sure what to do with him now. So as soon as his promo was done, he left the arena- but not before Triple H assured him they would talk soon about what would be happening with him in the future. Not that Punk even cared at the moment- he had other things to worry about now.

And that scared him.

For the first time in nearly 15 years, his entire life did not revolve around wrestling anymore. With the introduction AJ, and then his son, his priorities had drastically changed. No longer was it just about chasing titles and bigger and better feuds; it was about family. A _real _family. It made the stakes that much higher, and the very fact that he had two people depending on him was a frightening concept. Maybe that was why he'd been willing to go to such extreme lengths to protect them.

Shaking his head, he caught a cab back to the hotel and went up to his room, where he changed into shorts and lay back on his bed to check his phone. As soon as he lay down, his phone rang. His heart raced as AJ's ringtone played. Taking a deep breath, he answered.

"When are you coming home?" she asked, before he could even speak.

"It's not home without you," he answered instinctively.

"I need a real answer," she said stiffly.

"I'm not on Smackdown, so tomorrow," he replied. "Why, do you miss me?"

She hesitated. "I heard what you said. Was that for me?"

"You know it was for you."

He heard her take a deep breath. "We need to talk, face-to-face."

He chuckled, despite himself. "This reminds me of when I begged you to come to Hell in a Cell to propose to you," he said.

But she wasn't laughing. "When does your flight get in?"

"Around noon," he replied, instantly feeling terrible about trying to make light of their conversation. "How's… how's Phillip?"

"He's doing fine… but I can tell he misses his Daddy."

"Can I see him tomorrow?" He hated having to ask.

"I said I wasn't going to keep him from you, and I meant it." She paused. "So I'll see you when you get home, then."

"I love you," he said quietly.

"I… I have to go," she whispered, and hung up.

"Ouch," he muttered, putting his phone down.

* * *

AJ couldn't sleep that night, so Colt stayed up with her. They played video games until the early morning, when Phillip awoke and began to cry.

"I didn't know they could sleep in those things," Colt remarked as she took Phillip out of the playpen.

"Neither did I, until I had one," she said. "Can you hold him while I make a bottle?"

"I think I got this," he replied, going to the kitchen. "How hard can it be? A few ounces of this stuff, and… Fuck, what did I just do? The cap won't go back on. AJ, what did I break?"

She laughed. "I think I've got it from here, Colt." She smiled. "Thank you, by the way. For being here and helping me."

He simply shrugged. "Don't mention it," he said. "You're my best friend's girl. I'm obligated to, in a sort of comedy chick-flick kind of way." He put the bottle down and squeezed her shoulder gently. "But try not to break his heart, okay? I think I've filled my drag-Punk-off-the-floor quota for awhile."

She packed everything up and headed back to the house at noon, knowing it would take Punk a little while to get back from the airport. She was shocked at the state of the house; it was spotless. _So this is what he does when he has no distractions, _she thought. She fed Phillip a bottle and put him down for nap. He nestled against his Wrestlemania bear, clearly happy to be back in his crib. With absolutely nothing to do, she sat on the couch to wait for her husband.

Punk burst through the door at 12:30. "AJ?" he called.

"In the living room," she answered.

He hurried in, looking frantic, as though he'd rushed home. "You're here," he said quietly, taking several deep breaths.

"Did you think I wasn't going to show up?" she asked, blinking at him.

"I had a few nightmares about it," he admitted.

"At least you slept." She sighed, then patted the couch cushion next to her. "Sit down."

He did, lowering himself down slowly. He seemed jumpy; nervous. He rubbed his hands together a few times, turning his head sideways to look at her. "So what did you want to talk about?" he asked.

"I think you know," she replied. "Look, I've been thinking a lot lately, about everything. What happened, what you said when I left, what you said last night. And I think part of the reason why I'm able to forgive you is because you clearly haven't forgiven yourself, either."

"So you forgive me?" he asked hopefully, raising his eyebrows.

"I do, but don't think for a second that I approve of what you did," she warned him. "But… I know why you did it. You did it to protect me, because you love me. And I think I can live with that."

He let out a sigh of relief, a breath he'd been holding in for far too long.

"But you have to promise you'll never do something like that again," she continued. "Unless someone has a gun or a knife on me or something, promise me that you will never, ever try to kill or mortally injure someone again. Even if it's in my defense."

"I promise," he said, but he was so overjoyed he nearly tackled her. He leaned in close to her, hesitating inches from her. "Can I…?"

She nodded and smiled, and he kissed her. It had only been four or five days since he'd last touched her lips, but it felt like he'd been on an overseas tour for a month. Kissing her felt like coming home. She giggled as he pulled her down onto the couch. "Is this the part where we have make-up sex?" she asked.

"You have no idea," he muttered into her neck.

"Right here? On the couch?"

"Live a little!" He started unbuttoning her jeans.

About twenty minutes later he lay back on the couch with her draped across his chest, utterly satisfied. "Good for you?" he asked, still panting slightly.

"Yes, but now I have to clean the couch," she answered, smiling.

"Well, I cleaned the rest of the house," he reminded her. "It's the least you can do."

She laughed. "I missed this," she said, running her index finger gently down the center of his chest.

"Missed what?"

"You. All of this."

He smiled. "I missed you, too."


	25. Chapter 25

Punk and AJ's newfound peace didn't last long.

After a few blissful days together, spent playing with Phillip, watching movies, and lying in bed, Punk's sleepless nights returned. He awoke constantly throughout the night, bathed in sweat and fists clenched so tightly that his palms bled. Even with AJ's knowledge and reluctant acceptance of what he'd done, he still couldn't be at peace with himself. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Daniel's face: motionless, eyes widened in shock, a thin trail of blood dribbling from his mouth.

As if torturing himself wasn't enough, his new angle in the company was even worse. He would be feuding with the former members of The Nexus, led by Wade Barret, who had reunited against their former leader in defense of their fallen brother Daniel Bryan. He didn't even bother arguing with Triple H about it; he felt he deserved to be shamed, both publicly on television and privately, within the confines of his own mind.

Over the next few weeks, The Nexus would constantly berate him on RAW, shaming him and blaming him. They would interrupt his matches, warning him to be careful, to not injure his opponents. They teased him, claiming soon Wade Barret would take his title from him, because Punk couldn't be trusted with that kind of responsibility.

"You know it's just storyline," AJ reminded him one night on the phone, after a particularly brutal RAW. "You know they don't really blame you."

"They have every right to," he muttered.

"You have to let go," she said. "Yes, you did a… a very bad thing, but there's nothing you can do to change it or take it back. So you have to move on. Dwelling on it isn't helping anyone." She paused, taking a deep breath. "Please, baby? I hate knowing you're in so much pain."

"I can't help it," he admitted. "I try to forget, but I can't… Everywhere I turn, there's another reminder."

"Maybe you should go visit him," AJ suggested. "It could help."

He laughed harshly. "I think I'm the last person he'd want to see."

"Maybe," she agreed, "but maybe not. Think about it."

He did think about it. He spent all of Tuesday brooding about it at home, weighing the pros and cons. He didn't want to upset a most likely already distraught Daniel, and possibly make things worse. But maybe… maybe it was something they both needed. To figure out where they went wrong in their lives. Maybe even to forgive each other. He would certainly never be able to get away from the situation otherwise, as it constantly surrounded him.

So next Tuesday, instead of flying home after RAW, he took a flight to the New York and a cab to the hospital where Daniel had been recovering since Wrestlemania. It was boiling hot out but he wore a jacket anyway, with his trademark Cubs hat pulled down over his face as he entered the hospital. The last thing he needed was to be recognized (and maybe even thrown out) before he got to Daniel's room.

He didn't stop at the front desk on the way in. He just kept walking, having gotten Daniel's floor and room number from Kofi earlier that day. He took the elevator to the 6th floor and stopped in the hallway, in front of a door with a chart hanging on it labeled 'Danielson, Bryan'. He took a deep breath; he knew this moment would be the hardest. It was his last chance to turn back, to change his mind and walk away. And he was tempted; he very nearly turned around. But all it took to convince him to go in was a glance at his phone background, a picture of himself with his family. He knew he couldn't do this to AJ and Phillip anymore. After everything they'd been through together, they didn't deserve the cold, broken man he had become. So he took another deep breath, ducked his head, and opened the door.

The sight of Daniel made the color drain from Punk's face; the man lying in the hospital bed before him was not one he recognized. He was very thin, looking as though he'd lost 30 pounds. His skin was hopelessly pale, and his beard had been shaved. He was wearing a thick neck brace, his head propped up against the pillows on his bed. He was facing away from the door, staring out the window.

"I'm not hungry, so don't even bother," Daniel muttered. His voice was hoarse.

"I'm not here for lunch," Punk said.

Daniel slowly turned his head to face him, eyes widened with shock as he recognized the voice coming from the door. "What the hell are you doing here?" he snapped, his eyes narrowing.

"I came to talk," Punk said calmly.

"We have nothing to talk about," Daniel growled. "Now get the fuck out of my room."

"Oh, I disagree," Punk said. He grabbed a chair from the corner of the room, pulling it up to Daniel's bedside and sitting down. "I think we have a lot to talk about. And I'm not leaving until we do."

"I'd shove you away, but I can't exactly use my hands," Daniel said angrily. "But you already know that." He looked down at them. "I can feel them, but I can't tighten them all the way. I can curl my thumb just enough to push this nurse call button they gave me. It has to be in my hand at all times, because I wouldn't be able to reach it otherwise. I can feel my feet, but I can't really use them, either. The doctors say the operation helped and that feeling might return to the rest of my body eventually. They think I might be able to sit upright soon. Sitting upright! That's my new goal. Not another title. Sitting up." He looked back up at Punk, their eyes locking. "I might never be able to walk again, did you know that? Let alone wrestle. I might be in a wheelchair for the rest of my life. Did you even think about any of that, when you lifted me into the fireman's carry that night?"

"I don't know," Punk replied carefully. "Did you think about any of the consequences when you tried to kill my son before he was born, or when you tried to rape my wife on our wedding day? Or any of the times you hit her and degraded her and made her ashamed to be alive? She still flinches sometimes when I touch her, did you know _that_?"

"Those were mistakes," Daniel said quietly, his eyes darting away.

"Mistakes that could have killed someone," Punk pointed out. "Why did you do any of that? What did I do to you? What did AJ do? You never treated your girlfriends like that before. Not Gail or Bri or anyone. What made her different? You… you changed, man. We were best friends for ten years, and then one day you get a gold strap around your waist, and…" He shook his head. "What happened?"

"I don't know, Phil!" he shouted. "I don't fucking know, all right? They… they gave me the belt, and… and all of a sudden, people started listening to me. I went from being a fucking nobody in a big stable and getting fired for a stupid stunt, to winning Money in the Bank and becoming a champ in less than two years! Even after I lost it, I was still in the main event scene! I was on the cover of the magazine. I was getting Make-A-Wish Foundation requests. I had a new T-shirt. My meet-and-greets were crowded. I was getting recognized in public. I had interviews and appearances and photo shoots all over the place. Do you have any idea what that kind of thing does to a guy's head?"

"I know _exactly _what that kind of thing does to your head," Punk reminded him. "Probably better than you do. I was the champion for 15 straight months before you took it for me. I went from getting handcuffed to the ropes and getting my head shaved on national television to delivering the shoot of the millennium and becoming everyone's favorite jerk before you even got your hands on a briefcase. You think I don't know what that does? I know exactly what it does, only I kept my head on straight. What makes you think everything going to your head gives you the right to do what you did to AJ?"

"I don't think it gave me any right," Daniel muttered. "She was just there, and she was easy to control… She looked up to me and she idolized me and she would have jumped off a bridge for me if I told her to. That kind of power, it's… it's hard not to take advantage of."

"But you were a better man than that!" Punk shot back. "You think I couldn't have done anything to any woman I wanted after I finally 'rose to greatness' in the company? But I didn't!"

"Don't act like you're a fucking saint here," Daniel snapped. "You think I don't know exactly what you did? You dropped my neck on your knee! I felt it… And then I didn't feel anything!"

"I know what I did!" Punk yelled. "I know exactly what I did, and it's killing me! I can't eat. I can't sleep. I can barely wrestle. I can't even look myself in the mirror. I… I shouldn't have done it. I know I shouldn't have."

"Then why?" Daniel demanded. "Why did you take everything away from me?"

"Because I had to! I had to stop you from hurting my family!" Punk looked down, thoroughly ashamed. "There was probably a better way, a way I didn't think of. But… it's too late. Fuck!" He clenched his fists. "I… I'm sorry, Bryan. I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry." He was crying; he hated himself for it, as before the incident he hadn't shed a tear in a decade, but he couldn't help it.

Daniel was silent for several moments, watching a broken Punk sob shamelessly before him. It took him a little more time, but he managed to muster up the strength to move his hand several inches. The movement caused his arm to fall from the bed, his hand landing on Punk's arm. He squeezed it, as hard as it could. Punk looked up at him, startled.

"I forgive you," Daniel said.

"You… you what?" Punk asked, shaking his head several times as he rubbed his eyes.

"I forgive you." He turned his head to face the window again, looking out at a street he wondered if he'd ever walk on again. "I'm already a fucking cripple, and my grudge against you is what landed me here. What's the point, anyway?" He turned back to look at Punk. "Stop fucking crying already, man. I can't remember the last time I saw you cry."

"Other than at the birth of my son and the last time I was blubbering about you? It's been awhile."

They both chuckled, then fell silent for a moment. "We're never going to be friends again, are we?" Daniel asked quietly.

"Probably not," Punk agreed. As much as the two men had loathed each other over the past year, the realization hurt. Their tight friendship had spanned over the last decade as they ascended the ranks of the indy circuit together, fighting to get signed and keep creative control over their gimmicks. It had been a good run. And now it was over.

Punk stood up, pushing the chair back. "I guess… I'll see you around," he said.

Daniel nodded, with some effort. "See you," he said. Punk turned to leave, but as he reached the door, Daniel called out to him. "Punk! One more thing."

Punk turned back. "Yeah?"

"Don't let her go. That was the worst mistake of my life."

Punk nodded. He looked back at Daniel once more before turning away, and walking out.


	26. Chapter 26

**Author's note: Sorry for the delay in updates, guys! I was having a little trouble with where to take the story next. But now I'm back!**

With Daniel's forgiveness, Punk was finally able to move on with his life. Everyone noticed that his mood had greatly improved. People were starting to wrestle him again without fear, and he was able to look at himself in the mirror again without seeing Daniel's tortured expression staring back at him. His life was returning to normal (as normal as the addition of a wife and son could be for a guy like him), and he wouldn't have it any other way.

But just as things were looking up, another bombshell was about to hit. He'd heard rumors about it amongst the roster, but those had never bothered him; every few months, someone would whisper about a return. They were never true, and they always faded. But this time was different. The rumors didn't go away, and it wasn't long before he heard actual confirmation from the higher-ups. It was true. She was returning.

Lita was coming back.

The news sent a shock down his spine. He hadn't seen Lita in almost year-since the 1000th RAW-and even then, they hadn't spoken a single word to each other. He knew why- it was because of what had happened at the conclusion of their passionate affair during the week Wrestlemania 28.

"_So what happens now?" she asked, lounging back on the bed._

_He turned to look at her as he stripped off his shirt. "What do you mean?" he asked, frowning._

"_You know exactly what I mean," she replied. "This. You. Me. Us."_

_He sighed heavily; he'd really been hoping to avoid this. "I really, really don't want to go into this right now," he said."Please. Not now."_

"_Why not? If not now, when?"_

"_Amy, please. I'm tired. I had the biggest match of my life tonight and I have to work another brutal match tomorrow. I just want to go to bed."_

"_Right," she said, nodding. "So we'll talk about it tomorrow, then?"_

_He sighed again. "I… don't know. Probably not."_

_She sat up to look him in the eye. "We're not getting back together, are we?" she asked. Her voice was quiet, laced with hurt. _

"_I can't do this again," he said simply. "I just can't."_

"_So this whole week just meant nothing to you?" she snapped, standing up._

"_Of course it meant something to me," he assured her. "You know it did. But I can't do it again. Do you even remember why we broke up the first time?"_

"_Because you're terrified of commitment?" she guessed, shrugging dramatically._

_He chuckled harshly. "No, you know exactly why," he reminded her. "I could only see you three or four days a month. You didn't trust me around a bunch of women who you were positive wanted to fuck me and I didn't trust you around a bunch of punk rock guys who I was positive wanted to fuck you. We fell apart. Why would we want to go back to that?"_

"_Then why have you been fucking me for the past five days?" she demanded. "Am I just fulfilling your 'needs' now? Is that all?" She bit her lip, looking up at him with watery eyes. "I thought you loved me."_

"_I do love you," he admitted. "I probably always will. But I can't do it again, Amy. I can't. Love doesn't just magically fix things. You know that."_

_She approached him, her face inches from his. "I guess this is it, then," she said tightly. Her hand came whistling sharply across his face. Before he could even react, she had already grabbed her bag and was walking past him. "See you never, Punker." She opened the door, took one last look back at him, and walked out of his life._

That was a year and two months ago and now, before the June 3rd, 2013 episode of RAW, he was discovering news that could once again throw his life into a whirlwind.

"What's the matter?" Zack asked him as he pulled on his boots. "I thought you'd be happy. Aren't you guys still, like, really good friends?"

"Not exactly," Punk muttered, taping up his wrists. "Not after Mania 28, anyway." He quickly gave Zack an overview of the situation.

"Wow," Zack said. "That… sucks. You think it'll cause any… problems? Between you and AJ?"

"Too soon to tell," Punk answered. "Before we got together, AJ used to worship her. But when we started dating, she got really scared of her. She practically had a panic attack when she found out about the Lita guest spot on the 1000th RAW last summer. I could never figure out if her anxiety was amplified because she was pregnant or if she's really that intimidated by her."

"Probably a little of both," Zack guessed.

Punk just shrugged. "I don't know." He sighed, smoothing back his hair. "Fuck, this is the last thing I need right now. I'm still trying to get my damn life back together after what happened."

"Relax, dude," Zack said, clapping him on the shoulder. "You're probably overreacting. She probably won't even talk to you."

_If only it were that easy, _Punk thought.

* * *

It didn't take long for the news to reach AJ at home the next day. When it did, she was surprisingly understanding about it.

"Good," she said, handing him Phillip so she could prepare a bottle. "The Divas division is really small and has been lacking for awhile. Maybe she'll be able to bring it back to life."

"Really?" he asked, raising his eyebrows. "You're not… worried or anything?"

"No," she answered, turning her head to study him curiously. "Why, do I have a reason to be worried?"

"No, no, not at all," he said quickly. "Just… really? Last summer you were freaking out."

She shrugged. "That was awhile ago. I'm not worried. I love you, and you love me. There's nothing to worry about." She put Phillip's bottle in the microwave and kissed Punk on the forehead, then the baby. "I love my men." She smiled.

"Love you too," he said. But he couldn't help but feel the pit of anxiety in his stomach was only growing larger. Like something was about to happen that he had absolutely no control over.


	27. Chapter 27

June 10th, 2013. Lita's return.

Punk had been agonizing over it all week. He was able to hide it fairly well from AJ, as he'd been on the road for most of the week. He mostly brooded about it alone, at night in his hotel room where no one could pester him about being so deep in thought. He had never fully gotten over Lita- she'd been the only woman he'd ever truly loved at that point. When their relationship fell apart, he thought he'd never find someone to fill the void she had left, until he found AJ. Now that Lita was coming back to the road, he didn't know how to feel. He didn't want his feelings for her to return- he was happy with AJ. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. He didn't want Lita to return to his world and throw everything he'd worked so hard for off balance.

Before that day, he never thought he'd have to deal with his dormant feelings for one of the most legendary Divas in WWE history. He was under the impression that he wouldn't cross paths with her on a consistent basis, as she'd never expressed to him that she had a desire to return to the ring. But now it was happening, and he was panicking. He didn't know what to do.

* * *

Punk came to the arena dressed in his tights and hid in the locker room all day. Someone mentioned to him that Lita had arrived about an hour after he did, but he ignored them. He stayed glued to his phone, texting AJ and being sarcastic to fans on Twitter. The room started to clear out as the show started, and he knew Lita's match with current Diva champion Beth Phoenix would be taking place soon. When they finally ordered him out of the locker room to stay near the curtain for his cue, he practically ordered Zack and Kofi to stay near him until it was time for his match.

He went out to wrestle The Miz and was, as usual, interrupted by The Nexus members. This storyline, since making peace with Daniel, was far less agonizing for him than it had been previously (although it still stung). He ducked out right after, not even changing into street clothes. He made it to his rental car and took off toward the hotel. Taking a deep breath, he tried to calm himself down. He'd gotten through this show. _Now all I have to do,_ he thought, _is avoid her at all the other shows for the rest of her or my career, whichever one ends first. Easy stuff, right?_

It was only as he reached his room that he realized how tired he was, having had a few sleepless nights prior to this show. His eyes were half-closed as he fumbled for his room key, but the voice next to him shocked him awake.

"So I hear you've been avoiding me," Lita said. "All day."

He whirled around, his back hitting the door behind him. "The fuck?" he snapped. "You scared the shit out me."

"Sorry," she said sincerely, "but I didn't exactly have a choice. You holed up in the men's locker room all day. This was the only way I could talk to you."

He took a deep breath, realizing that he'd still been looking at the floor. He forced himself to lift his head and look at her, and what he saw stunned him. She'd dyed her hair back to the striking, vibrant red she'd had during her first run with the WWE. She wore low-rise jeans and a shirt that hung above her stomach, inviting his eyes to skirt across her bare skin. He shook his head rapidly. "You couldn't have, I don't know, _called _or something normal like that?" he asked finally.

"This is more of a face-to-face conversation," she said.

"I don't really think we have anything to say to each other," he said quietly.

"Ouch, that hurt," she muttered. "You really think I deserve you being mean to me?"

"Look, I'm happy," he replied flatly. "I like my life and I'm happy with my wife and son."

"Whoa, whoa, calm down," she said, backing away. "I'm not here to ruin your life, Punk. I just want to talk, okay? That's all. Don't you think you at least owe me that?"

"Fine," he said, leaning back against the door and folding his arms. "Talk." He hated being so cruel and curt with her, but he had to. He knew if he let any kindness seep through to her, he might start to feel for her again. And he couldn't let that happen.

She shuffled her feet awkwardly, as though she hadn't been prepared for him to accept her offer of conversation. "I'm going to be on the road again," she said.

"I know."

"And that means we're going to be seeing a lot of each other. I don't want there to be any bad blood between us. We need to be able to work together, even if you hate my guts for whatever stupid, unjustifiable reason."

"I don't hate you."

"I know that. Just making sure you're still listening." She flicked a strand of hair behind her ear. "You may not hate me, and you know I don't hate you, but this whole avoiding-each-other-like-the-plague thing isn't going to work in the long run. So we have to get over that shit now."

He forced himself not to smile; no-nonsense Lita, just the way she'd always been. "All right, yeah," he said, nodding.

"I'm not saying we have to be best friends," she added quickly. "But the awkwardness… I think we can do without all of that."

He nodded again. "Okay."

She rocked back and forth on her heels a few times. "So I guess I'll see you around?"

"Yeah," he replied. "Sure." His hands were tightened, resisting the urge to at least hug her.

She offered him a smile, the same smile that used to melt his icy heart and heal his wounds whenever he needed it. "Good night," she said. She spun around and walked away.

He quickly let himself inside the room and leaned back against the door, sliding down until he was in a sitting position. He sat there for a long time, staring at his phone's background. AJ and Phillip's smiling faces (as well as his own) stared back at him, grins a mile wide.

_You're happy, _he reminded himself. _You're happy. You have a beautiful wife who adores you and a wonderful son who looks just like you. You're happy and you don't need her. You don't fucking need her. Not again. You're not fucking doing this again._


	28. Chapter 28

Weeks passed, and Punk was just barely keeping his head above water.

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get Lita out of his head. AJ, naïve as she was, fully believed him when he explained why he appeared to be so distracted lately- stress at work, pressure from the higher-ups to generate build for Summerslam. She did her best to help him, giving him massages, cooking his favorite meals, tending to his every need. It just made him love her all the more, but it still didn't get the red-headed rocker out of his thoughts.

He hated what was happening inside his head- he knew he was happy with AJ. He'd been happy before this. He loved her, loved seeing her sweet smile in the morning, when she threw her arms around his neck and whispered into his ear how much she loved him. But the unfinished business in the back of his mind was driving him crazy. He tried to push it out of his mind, to spend time with his wife and son and push himself to the limit in the ring. But it wasn't working.

As Summerslam drew nearer, he broke a promise he'd made to himself. He found himself spending more and more time with Lita on the road. It was innocent enough at first- going to dinner in large groups, hanging out backstage. But as time passed, he found the groups were getting smaller and smaller until it was down to just him and Lita. It was so easy, falling back into an old pattern. Nights of punk rock and laughing at horrible jokes, just like old times. They spoke at length about what happened to Daniel, and although he never explained to her the full truth of what happened, she was able to help put his mind even more at ease. They even talked about AJ.

"It sounds like you really love her," Lita said late one night as they sat by the hotel pool. They were sitting on the same lounge chair as she looked through his phone, at recent pictures he'd taken of Phillip. "Wow, he's adorable!" she exclaimed. "He… looks just like you." She looked over at him, smiling. "He's gonna be quite the lady killer when he grows up."

He laughed. "He already is. You should see him around the locker room. He really turns up the charm and giggles and stuff whenever Kelly or Eve or someone like that holds him."

"So you're saying he's gonna be a little player, just like you?"

"Oh, I wouldn't wish my ruggedness on anyone. I had to make a deal with the devil to get these good looks and charm. You know that."

She laughed. "You know, you haven't changed a bit. Not in the past year, and not since I first met you."

"People like me, we don't change."

"You really don't, do you?" She leaned her head on his shoulder, turning to look up at him with a small smile. Before either of them even realized what was happening, her lips were pressed gently against his. She swung her leg over his lap so she was positioned over him, and deepened their kiss. His hands came up to rest lightly on her lower back, her hair falling into his face.

"No," she said suddenly, springing back from him.

"Huh?" he asked, frowning. "What's wrong?"

"What's wrong?" she echoed incredulously. "You're married, Punk. You have a baby at home. I can't do this. I can't be that woman again. Don't you remember why I left the WWE the first time?"

"But-"

"No," she said, shaking her head. "I… No. I can't. I'm sorry." She got up and started toward the building, wiping a tear from her eye.

"Wait!" he begged, jumping to his feet, but she was already gone. "Fuck!" He shoved the table next to him. It crashed to the concrete floor. Grabbing his phone off the chair, he trudged into the hotel and up to his room. He slammed the door behind him, hating himself more and more with every step he took. He slammed an angry first into the wall; it came away bloody. He paced around the room, going back and forth and smoothing his hair back compulsively. What was he _doing_? How could he do this to AJ? How could he do this to Lita? This wasn't right. He couldn't see her again. Ever.

* * *

Punk spent the next week avoiding Lita like the plague. He holed himself up in the locker room when he wasn't traveling, and made sure to keep a buffer of several people around him at all times. AJ was growing more concerned, and questioned him about it several times throughout the week.

"Are you sure you're all right?" AJ asked him one night on the phone after a house show, as he sat alone in his hotel room. "You've seemed really distant. Even Zack said you're acting weird."

"Zack said that?" Punk asked.

"Yeah, I texted him earlier because you weren't responding," she explained. "Is everything okay? You're not still beating yourself up over Daniel, are you? I know it's been really hard, but I thought you were getting past it."

"No, no, it has nothing to do with that," he assured her.

"Then what is it? You're not yourself, and it's worrying me. My day isn't the same without your sarcasm texts, and my phone has been mysteriously empty of them lately."

"I'm just stressed," he said. "I've been pushing myself really hard and I haven't seen you and Phillip in over a week. It sucks and I miss you." That was true, but he was leaving out the biggest part. _Still counts as lying, asshole, _he thought. _You're a horrible fucking person and you don't deserve her. Why don't you just go find a goddamn bridge and-_

"Well, I think I know a few ways to ease your tension and make you feel better once you get home," she teased. He knew she was smiling on the other end of the line; that sweet, wonderful smile.

"Is that a promise?" he asked, forcing himself to play along.

"You'll find out when you get home on Tuesday," she said. He knew if she'd been there in person, she'd be winking at him. "I love you."

"I love you, too. I love you so much." He bit his lip. "More than you could ever possibly know."

But by Sunday night, he'd almost succeeding in driving himself insane. He wasn't sleeping well, and it was starting to show in his wrestling. He put on a particularly mediocre performance that night at another house show, and dragged himself back to the hotel. He showered and tried to sleep, but he was too wired. He couldn't. He was pacing back and forth. He couldn't get it out of his head, and he knew there was only one way he would ever be able to.

He took the elevator down one floor and trudged down the hallway, stopping in front of one of the doors. He knocked frantically, not stopping until the door opened and nearly sent him stumbling forward into the person who answered.

"What do you want?" Lita demanded. She was wearing only underwear and a long T-shirt, but her hair was unruffled. It was as though she'd been trying to sleep, but lay hopelessly awake as he had.

"I have to know," he said.

Most people would be confused by his statement, but she knew him well enough to know exactly what he meant. "No," she said firmly, shaking her head. "I'm not doing this, Punk. I'm not wrecking someone's life again. Why would you want to do that?"

"Please," he begged. He hated saying it, but he had to. "It's been driving me crazy. I have to know, Amy. I have to know." His hands were clenched tightly at his sides.

She took a step back from the doorway, biting her bottom lip as she studied the desperate look in his eyes. He was on her in a second, shutting the door behind him as he pulled her into a searing kiss. He kicked off his shoes as they tumbled back onto the bed, his hands tearing at her shirt in an attempt to get it over her head. His beard scraped roughly across her skin. She tasted so sweet, so familiar, like a comfortable past he'd never shaken. He struggled out of his shirt and her nails raked down his bare back, finding the waistband of his shorts and pulling at them. He yanked them down, fighting with the lace of her underwear to do the same. He had the insatiable need to feel her, all of her. He sank his teeth into her neck as he pushed inside her and she gasped, throwing her head back.

"Harder," she begged. So he did, as fast as his hips would allow as he held onto the headboard above them. He wasn't sure how much time passed; it could have been ten minutes, it could have been an hour. He was lost, until he felt himself release. He moaned into her neck until he finished, gasping as collapsed on her in a sweaty heap. As soon as he caught his breath he rolled off her, sitting up on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands.

"What's wrong?" she asked, sitting up. She held a sheet up to her chest.

He just shook his head, muttering something incoherently. He looked down at his hands, staring shamefully at the wedding ring on his finger. He tightened his hands into fists, his nails digging painfully into his palms. He'd gotten what he wanted, all right. But he hadn't felt a goddamn thing. He imagined AJ sleeping peacefully at home, or maybe up with the baby, without a care in the world. She had absolutely no idea that he'd just made the biggest mistake of his life, all for nothing.


	29. Chapter 29

**Author's note: I think I need to apologize for breaking everyone's hearts with that last chapter! Pretty shocking, huh? Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, there are too many to name but you know who and how awesome you are! Here we go, hang on to your tissue boxes!**

Punk stormed out of Lita's hotel room so fast he nearly forgot his shoes. She called down the hallway after him, but he kept walking. He knew if he turned around, he would probably yell and scream at her, and she didn't deserve that. This wasn't her fault, not really; she had resisted, begged him not to. He had been the one to insist, to barge into her room and beg her to let him take her. He hurried to the elevator and took it back to his floor, locking himself in his room as soon as he got there.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," he growled, pacing back and forth. "Fuck, what the fuck is _wrong with me_?" He punched the wall next to the bed, something it seemed like he'd been doing more and more often lately. "_Damn it_!" He punched again and again, not stopping until his knuckles were dripping with blood. He sat down on the floor, holding his bleeding with the other as it shook with pain. "Fuck… I'm so fucking stupid… what have I done…" He stood up and stripped off his clothes, hurrying into the shower. He wasn't sure how long he was in there, letting the scalding hot water wash over him, but it was enough time to use nearly half a bar of soap. But no matter how long he scrubbed for, he still couldn't get rid of the shame crawling all over his skin.

He didn't sleep that night. He spent the rest of the night in the hotel's gym, completely exhausting himself until 5 AM. Then he showered again for another ridiculous amount of time before checking out and heading to the airport. Had he not met up with Kofi, Zack, and several other people, he probably wouldn't have remembered where he was flying to. Kofi helpfully pointed it out on his ticket. He trudged along with the rest, a zombie. When AJ called him after the plane landed, he very nearly dropped his phone. He couldn't bear to answer, to hear her cheerful voice tell him how much she loved him and couldn't wait to see him tomorrow. He was sure he'd break down if he did. Instead he sent her a text, telling her that cell phone reception was poor in this area and that he would call as soon as he was able to. She responded by sending a picture of herself and Phillip, sitting on a blanket on the living room floor with bright smiles. The photo nearly made him choke.

He was listless at the arena, changing into his tights and finding a corner of the locker room to sit in. It wasn't long before Zack approached him. His usually chipper friend was not in good spirits; the New York native's face was contorted in anger. "We need to talk," Zack demanded, leaning over him. "Now. And not here." His voice was quiet, as to not attract the attention of the others around him.

"I don't want to leave the locker room," Punk muttered.

"Maybe you didn't hear me correctly," Zack said. "_Now_."

The urgency in his voice was enough to get Punk to stand. He followed Zack through the arena, through the winding hallways to outside near the loading bay. In the middle of the day, with nothing left to deliver or unload, the area was deserted.

"All right, what's this about?" Punk asked.

"I know what you've been doing," Zack snapped.

Punk blinked, confused. "What are you talking about?" The anger in Zack's voice scared him slightly; he'd never heard the Internet Champion speak this way.

"Don't play that shit with me," Zack growled. "I know exactly what you've been doing. You think I'm blind? You go from freaking out that she's back, to spending all your time with her. You think I don't know what's going on?"

Punk knew where this was going now. "You've got it all wrong," he said.

"No, I don't," Zack said. "Just fucking tell me the truth, man. I already know, so you might as well say it. Tell me, how far has it gone?" Punk's abashed expression told Zack all he needed to know. "Fuck, man. You fucked her? Jesus Christ, you fucked her. What the fuck, man. You're _married_. You have a _kid_. You went through hell to get AJ, and you fuck it up like this?" He turned around for a moment, shaking his head furiously. "You remember what you told me when I first got here?"

"I remember," Punk muttered, but Zack continued anyway.

"You told me I didn't have to be like most of the guys here. You told me I didn't have to be a scumbag who steps on everyone else to get to the top, who gets high after shows and cheats on the girl who's waiting for him at home with any chick who will jump into bed with him. You told me I could be better than that, and I have been better than that. How come the guy who preaches it isn't?"

"Zack, you don't understand," Punk tried to explain. "She's not just some girl in the locker room or someone I met on the road. She's-"

"She's what?" Zack interrupted. "There's no fucking excuse!"

"I'm not trying to make excuses," Punk said, feeling his heart race. "I'm just trying to explain!"

"It doesn't matter! If you had unfinished business with Lita, or you were still in love with her or something, then you shouldn't have fucking married AJ! It's that fucking simple! What's hard to understand about that?"

"You don't fucking get it!" Punk yelled. "I thought there was something left! I couldn't get her out of my head! I had to know, I had to fucking know if there was anything left! So I… I slept with her, and there was nothing! I didn't feel anything! I made a mistake, Zack. It was a fucking mistake, the biggest mistake of my life!" He was frantic now, gesturing wildly.

"Well you need to own up to it," Zack said firmly.

"Own up to it?" Punk echoed.

"You need to admit to AJ what you did," Zack clarified.

"I can't!" he cried. "It'll kill her!"

"Stop being a fucking coward and admit what you did!" His eyes narrowed. "Because if you don't, I will." He shook his head sadly. "You fucking disgust me, man. I thought you were better than this. I guess I was wrong." He turned and went back inside, leaving Punk to his misery.

* * *

All the while, Lita was in her own pit of despair. She hadn't slept the previous night either and was now sitting in her rental car, in the arena's employee parking lot. What Punk had done had confused her terribly at first, but it didn't take her much longer to realize what happened. He'd come to see if there was anything truly left in his heart for her, and upon discovering there wasn't, was horrified with what he'd done. It abolished all hope she'd been secretly clinging to for the past year, and left only shame and sadness in its place.

She was absolutely repulsed with herself. She couldn't believe that she'd done it again- wrecking relationships and friendships for her own selfish purposes. But it wasn't really her fault, was it? She had resisted him at every turn. It was only when he came to her, desperate and pleading, that she finally gave in to him.

_No, _she thought. _That's bullshit. It's my fault, too. I could have said no again, but I didn't. I just gave in to impulse and did what I wanted, instead of being a good person for once. I haven't even been back for two months and I'm already fucking things up again. This was a mistake._

She thought again of a famous video that had been circulating for awhile, one she'd watched on her phone at least 30 times that sleepless night. It was a short clip of a 12-year-old AJ meeting Lita at an autograph signing back in 2000. The little girl had burst into tears, throwing her arms around her hero in sheer joy. Lita shook her head, tears stinging her eyes as she played it again and studied the look of adoration on the young future diva's face.

_I wonder what you would think of me now, _she thought. _I betrayed you. I'm so sorry._


	30. Chapter 30

**Author's note: I think at this point I may have to offer free grief counseling with each chapter lol. You guys are amazing, please enjoy chapter 30!**

AJ woke early on Tuesday morning, while Phillip was still asleep. Normally, she would take advantage of the opportunity to grab a little extra time to rest, but today was different. Punk was finally coming home today after a two week tour, and she wanted everything to be perfect for his arrival.

She quickly cleaned up the whole house, and was just finishing laundry as the baby awoke. "Hey, sweet boy," she cooed, lifting him out of his crib. He gave her the toothless smile that always melted her heart. "Daddy's coming home today. Let's get you all cleaned up for him." She gave him a bottle, bathed him, and dressed him before putting him in his swing in the kitchen. He bounced around and babbled as he watched his mother cook. "This is for Daddy," she explained. "He won't be home until lunch time, so I want this to be ready for him." She put it in the refrigerator. With everything done, she allowed herself a moment to eat breakfast, and then played with Phillip on the living room floor for awhile.

She was just putting him down for his nap when she heard a car pull into the driveway. She tiptoed out of the room, trying not wake the baby in her excitement. She closed the door softly and hurried downstairs, reaching the living room as the front door opened. Her eyes lit up as Punk came through the door, wheeling his suitcase behind him.

"You're home!" she cried eagerly, throwing her arms around his neck. "Oh, I missed you so much. I'm so glad you're home." Trying her best not to cry, she pressed her lips gently against his.

"Yeah," he said quietly, breaking the kiss. "I'm home."

She frowned, pulling back. "Are you okay?" she asked. "You sound… weird." She studied him carefully, noticing the dark circles under his eyes. It looked like he hadn't slept in days.

"I'm just a little out of it," he explained. "I'm really tired."

"Jet lag?" she suggested.

"That too," he agreed.

She smiled. "Well, come sit down and eat. I already made lunch for you. Then you can relax or take a nap or whatever you want." She led him the table, and he followed without a word. Her husband was home; her world was perfect again. She hadn't the slightest clue what was coming.

* * *

Punk couldn't bear to tell AJ, not yet.

He had been working up the nerve all the previous night and throughout the day so far, practicing what to say in his head. He had been meaning to tell her as soon as he got home, but the love and excitement with which she greeted him tore down his resolve. _Not yet, _he thought as he embraced her. _Let me just have one last perfect day with her before I ruin her life._

So he ate the lunch she'd prepared for him, knowing he would probably end up throwing it up later (he hadn't been able to stomach much food lately). They sat on the couch curled in each other's arms after that, waiting patiently for Phillip to wake up. When he did, Punk insisted on getting him- he was sure this would be last time for awhile he would have that privilege. He brought his little clone downstairs and they sat on the floor with him, watching as growing baby crawled about on the rug and giggled at his parents. All the while, Punk internally cursed himself for what he'd done. He silently wished for this time never to end.

But it did, all too soon. Phillip grew tired as it neared his bedtime, so Punk changed him and put him down. He spent a long time in his son's room, watching him stretch and curl into a comfortable position. His arm was hooked, as usual, around his favorite stuffed animal- the Wrestlemania 28 bear his dad had gotten him. He snapped a picture on his phone.

When Punk finally emerged from Phillip's room, AJ was waiting for him in their bedroom. He took a deep breath and went in, hands clenched tightly at his sides. He'd received a text from Zack earlier- 'You have until the end of the day. If I call her tomorrow morning and you haven't told her, I'm going to.' He knew he couldn't wait any longer.

AJ was scrolling casually through her phone, lounging back on her pillows. She put it down as soon as he entered, looking up at him with smile. But it turned to a frown when she saw his grave expression. "Baby, are you sure you're all right?" she asked.

"No," he said quietly, sitting down. "I'm not. There's… there's something I need to talk to you about."

She scooted to the edge of the bed, swinging her legs around so her feet touched the floor. "What is it?"

He took another deep breath. "Look, this isn't easy," he said.

"You can tell me anything," she said, squeezing his shoulder. "You know that."

He looked down, knowing she wouldn't be thinking that in a few minutes. "Well…" He paused, shaking his head. His heart was beating a mile a minute. _Do it,_ he told himself. _You have to. _"Well, you know how Lita's been back for a little while now…"

AJ nodded slowly. "Uh-huh," she said. "Go on."

"And… you know we had a history awhile back…"

She bit her quivering lip. "And?" she whispered, tears already forming in her eyes. She was no fool; she knew where this was going. She could only pray it really wasn't.

"I never… I never fully got over her," he explained. "Or, at least I thought I didn't." He looked away; if he kept focusing on the heartbroken look in her eyes, he wouldn't be able to continue. "I didn't know if there was anything left between us… It was really bothering me, I couldn't stop thinking about it…" He stole a glance at her before looking down again; he could see her heart breaking, right before his eyes. "So on Sunday night, I… I…" He tightened his fists, unable to say the next words.

"Say it," she demanded, her voice breaking. "Say it, just fucking say it!"

"I…" His voice was starting break, too. "I slept with her…"

"You slept with her," AJ echoed in a whisper, looking down.

"I slept with her, just to see if there was anything left, and there wasn't, I didn't feel anything… Anything at all…"

"You slept with her," she repeated, tears beginning to slide down her cheeks.

He got down on his knees before her. "AJ, you have to believe me, it was just a one-time thing, it was a mistake, and it was wrong, and… and I'm… I'm sorry…" Tears were forming now. "I'm sorry, AJ. I'm so sorry. I'm so fucking sorry."

"You're sorry?" She grabbed his left hand, fingers closing around the gold band on his ring finger. "Were you wearing your wedding ring when you fucked her? Were you?"

"I… I was…" he muttered, his voice trailing off.

"Does this mean anything to you, you son of a bitch? Anything at all? Answer me!"

"Of course it does, it means everything to me!"

"You liar!" she cried, slapping him across the face. "You liar, you fucking liar!" She slapped him again. She began sobbing uncontrollably, slapping him again and again until her hands stung too much from the impact. He took it all without a single word or flinch; he knew he deserved it. "You promised me you would be there for me and never hurt me! You promised you wouldn't be a scumbag like Daniel, that you love me and cherish me and never fucking hurt me!" She stood up, turning away from him for a moment. "How could you? How could you do this to me?"

"It was a mistake," he said pleadingly, standing up. "It was a stupid fucking mistake, the worst mistake of my life! Please, AJ, you have to-"

"Have to what, forgive you?" she snapped. "I trusted you! I fucking trusted you! And you… you just betrayed me, like I didn't mean a goddamn thing to you!" She turned away again, covering her mouth with her hand.

"Are you gonna leave me now?" he asked quietly.

"Not this time," she whispered back callously, turning back to him. "This time, _you're _leaving." She grabbed him by the arm and led him down the stairs. She opened the front door and tossed his unpacked suitcase out, then his wallet, before giving him a rough shove that sent him reeling backwards. He just barely managed to catch himself on the doorframe.

"Can I say goodbye to my son?" he begged, his eyes stinging.

"No," she replied coldly. "You don't deserve to." She slammed the door shut, locking it after. She made it to the kitchen before collapsing in tears again, sliding down against the wall. She wrenched her wedding ring free from her finger and tossed it carelessly. She watched through tear-filled eyes as it bounced on the hard wood floor, hitting the dishwasher and finally rolling to a stop. Then she pulled her knees up to her chest, hugging them as she sobbed. Her world had just been pulled out from under her, and she had no idea what to do now.


	31. Chapter 31

It took Punk several moments of fiddling with the door handle of his car to realize that he didn't actually have his keys. He dug his hands into his pockets, but he couldn't find them. He looked at the door to the house, and briefly considered knocking on the door and asking AJ for them. He quickly decided against this, not wanting to agitate her further. He grabbed his suitcase and wallet off the ground and walked to the edge of the curb. He was completely numb, not sure what to do. He thought about calling a cab, but angry thoughts interrupted him.

_No, you deserve to fucking walk, _he thought. _I'm fucking scum. I deserve to get hit by a car. Maybe I'll get mugged. It's night, after all._

So he started down the sidewalk with his suitcase rolling behind him, not caring who saw. He walked the three miles to Colt's apartment building, taking the stairs instead of the elevator. He stopped in front of Colt's door, knocking weakly several times. His best friend opened the door a moment later, Pepsi in one of his hands.

"Threw you out after you told her?" Colt guessed, stepping back to allow him inside.

Punk looked up, surprised. "Jesus Christ, does _everyone _fucking know?" he muttered, dragging himself and his suitcase inside.

Colt shut the door behind him. "Not exactly," he answered. "Zack called me yesterday and told me to expect you either tonight or tomorrow morning."

"Motherfucker." Punk sat down on the couch, sighing.

"Oh, I disagree," Colt said. "I think he was perfectly justified in forcing your hand."

"I know he was," Punk assured him. "That doesn't mean I have to like it."

"Your face is pretty red," Colt noted. "How many times did she slap you?"

"I lost count after the first five or six times," Punk admitted.

"Huh." Colt nodded, sitting down next to him. "So, tell me. How much of an ass do you feel like?"

"This isn't funny," Punk said stonily.

"Last time I checked, you were the homeless one crashing at _my _apartment," Colt reminded him. "I think you're playing by my rules this time. So answer my question."

Punk sighed. "Fuck, dude, what do you want me to say? I made the worst mistake ever and it completely ruined our lives. I don't know how to fix it. I don't even know if I can."

"You can't fix everything," Colt said.

"So should I just give up and wait till she hands me divorce papers? Fuck, I can't do that. I… I have to make it right. But I don't know how."

"Somehow, I don't think showing up at the door with roses is going to make everything go away," Colt muttered.

"Do you really have to be like this now?" Punk snapped.

"Hey, I'm not the one who cheated on his wife with his ex-girlfriend," Colt reminded him. "Look, man. You know me. You know I'm a pretty easy-going guy. I was right there with you and wing-manning during your womanizer days. But this… I can't condone this. I can't just let you off easy this time."

"Then what should I do, o wise one?" he asked.

Colt shrugged. "Fuck if I know, man. Let her cool down for awhile first, at least."

Punk looked at the floor. "She didn't even let me say goodbye to my son." He twisted his wedding ring; it burned on his finger. "I could really use a DeLorean right now."

"Can't change the past," Colt said. "You can only look forward."

* * *

The rest of the week was, as AJ expected, completely miserable.

After hours of crying in the kitchen, she managed to drag herself up off the floor. She checked on Phillip, who had miraculously managed to sleep through the whole thing. She tried to lie down on the bed, but it felt far too alien to her. So she grabbed the baby monitor and went down the hall to the guest room, flopping down on the much smaller bed. She finally passed out from sheer exhaustion a few hours later.

She awoke the next morning to the sound of Phillip wailing. She rubbed her red, puffy eyes and sprang out of bed to go get him. "Are you hungry?" she whispered to him. She could barely look at him; seeing Punk's eyes stare back at her made her want to cry again. But she knew it wasn't his fault. He was only an innocent victim, trapped in the middle of all of this. She changed him and fed him a bottle, cradling him afterwards in an attempt to calm him. But the baby would not be soothed, and she knew why; he wanted his daddy.

When Phillip finally cried himself to sleep, AJ put him back down in his crib. She took a seemingly endless shower and went downstairs, collecting her wedding ring from the floor. She rolled it around in her hands, considering an idea that had been floating around in her head since she'd woken up.

"You want to betray me?" she whispered, holding the ring up in front of her. "Then I'm going to shame you in front of the entire world." She took her phone out from her pocket. She had a few phone calls to make.

* * *

When Punk arrived at the arena for RAW that Monday, no one paid him any mind. They had no idea what has happening in his life… All except Zack. The younger wrestler approached him as soon as Punk was in his tights, arms folded. His expression was much lighter than it had been the last time the two of them had spoken.

"So," Zack said. "You look like you haven't slept in a week."

"What gave it away?" Punk asked. "The dark circles under my eyes? Or all the stubble?" He sighed, looking down. "She threw me out, Zack."

Zack nodded. "I know. I'm sorry I had to do that. You've been a good friend to me for awhile… but so has she. And she deserved to know what you did. She doesn't deserve to be lied to."

"I don't blame you," Punk assured him. "Who else knows?"

"Kofi. He called it about a week after Lita came back."

"Huh, so that's why he's been avoiding me. Anyone else?"

"Not that I know of."

Punk shook his head, his hands resting lightly on his hips. "I don't know what to do, man. She kicked me the fuck out and all I want is to get her back."

"It's not going to be easy," Zack noted. "It might not even be possible."

"I know," Punk said. "I know."

He spent the rest of the day until the show away from everyone else, hiding near a storage room. When it was time for him to come out at the start of the program, he forced on his usual demeanor. He proceeded to the ring with all his usual grandeur, grabbing a mic as he climbed over the ropes. He was going to cut a promo about his impending Summerslam championship match with Wade Barret, but before he could even open his mouth, a song he never expected played throughout the arena.

AJ came marching down to the ring, armed with a microphone. Punk stepped back in shock, his jaw all but hitting the floor. Her eyes were narrowed in anger as she slid under the ropes to get into the ring. "What's wrong, Punk?" she asked with mock innocence. "Surprised to see your wife here?"

"Uh," Punk muttered, blinking. He shook his head, trying to regain his composure. "A little. What… what are you doing here?"

"I just came to tell the WWE Universe something," she answered, smiling sweetly. "I thought that all of your adoring fans, all of the little kids who wear your T-shirts, and all the women who think you're a prince, and all the men who look up to you and think of you as a role model, deserve to know who and what you really are."

Punk's heart sank as he realized what she was about to do. "AJ, don't do this," he begged, all the color draining from his face. "You don't have to do this. We can talk about this in private."

"Oh, really? I don't have to do this? Maybe you should have thought of that before you did what I'm about to tell everyone." She turned away from him, toward the camera. "Ladies and gentlemen, this man that all of you look up to, your straight edge savior, your voice of the voiceless, your WWE champion, is a fraud. What he really is is a lying, _cheating_, disgrace of a man." She paused as the howls from the crowd became absolutely deafening. "If some of you didn't get that, I'll clarify: my husband, CM Punk, _cheated _on me."

A chorus of boos filled the arena. Punk looked down, completely stunned. He couldn't even speak.

"Is anyone curious about who he cheated on me with?" she asked. "Well, I'm not going to tell you her name, because she doesn't deserve my recognition. But I will give you this: she was someone I looked up to for the past 13 years. She was someone I admired. She was my hero. But now? She's nothing to me. Just like you." She took her wedding ring out of her pocket and threw it at him; it hit his chest and fell to the canvas. She looked at him with a tilted head, holding her mic out. "Pipe bomb!" She threw the mic at him, too. It hit his forehead and sent him reeling backwards, grabbing onto the ropes as she climbed out of the ring. He caught his balance and bent down to collect her wedding ring, staring at it in dumbfounded silence as she walked back up the ramp.


	32. Chapter 32

It didn't take Punk's astonishment to turn into rage. He stormed backstage, shoving past a few trainers to get to AJ. "What the fuck are you doing?" he yelled, his face turning red with anger. "Are you trying to ruin my career now, too? Throwing me out of my house and keeping me from my son isn't enough?"

AJ's eyes were glittering with tears as she turned to look at him. "No, it's never enough!" she cried. "Everyone deserves to know who and what you really are, you bastard!"

"Then why did you talk about Lita?" he demanded. "They're not stupid. They know who you were talking about. Why does she deserve to have her career tainted again, too?"

"Now you're _defending _her?" she snapped in disbelief. "She's not some innocent little flower who gets caught up in scandals, she causes them! She could have said no to you. She could have been the bigger person, but she wasn't! She's just as bad as you!"

"AJ, please, calm down," a voice begged from behind them.

AJ whirled around to find Lita standing before her, dressed in her ring gear. "How dare you talk to me," she growled, her eyes narrowing. "How _dare _you even walk through my line of sight after what you did with _my _husband!"

Lita swallowed hard. "Come on, he really didn't deserve that out there," she continued. "If I learned anything 7 years ago, it's that problems in the back should be kept in the back."

"You think you have any right to tell me what I should do, you home-wrecking whore?" AJ cried. She gave Lita a rough shove and pounced on her, fists flying at the grounded diva in a fury.

"AJ, stop!" Punk yelled. He grabbed her around the waist and yanked her off Lita, who was now nursing her bloody nose.

"No!" AJ shouted, fighting against his arms, but it was hopeless. He had over 120 pounds on her; she might as well have been fighting tree limbs. "Let go! Let go of me!"

But he didn't. He carried his thrashing wife past the mass of slack-jawed superstars and WWE personnel, out to the employee parking lot where they could speak in private. He set her down, standing back to just narrowly miss getting clocked in the face. "AJ, please, let's just talk about this," he begged.

"No, we have nothing to talk about!" she snapped, turning away from him and folding her arms.

"Why can't we just work this out?" he pleaded. His rage was gone now, replaced by the pain and regret he'd been feeling the entire week. "I don't want this to be the end of us. I made a mistake and I'm sorry. I know apologizing won't fix it, but what will? Please, just tell me what I can do and I'll do it."

She turned back to face him. "You can get away from me," she said coldly. "You know, I wish the baby had turned out to be Daniel's after all. Then I would never have to see you again." With that she stormed off, once again leaving him stunned in the dust.

* * *

AJ headed straight to her rental car after that, not looking back. She just barely managed to hold in her tears as she got into the car, not wanting Punk to see her cry. What she'd done that night pained her greatly to say. The revenge felt wonderful at first, but now it felt as though she'd just admitted to the entire world that she wasn't good enough to keep her husband interested. She also felt terrible about what she'd said to Punk in the parking lot- there was no truth to her statement, and she'd said it simply to hurt him. She couldn't imagine her baby boy being anyone else's, no matter how much his father had hurt her. She quickly promised herself to never use her son as a weapon against Punk ever again.

She sobbed as she drove to the airport, calming down enough to buy a ticket for the first flight back to Chicago. She arrived a little after 2 AM, and went to Colt's apartment to pick up Phillip.

"That was a little harsh, don't you think?" Colt asked, unlocking the door to let her inside. He'd watched RAW, of course.

AJ shook her head. "I don't want to talk about it," she said, exhausted. "Thanks for watching Phillip while I was gone, though. How was he?"

"Not like himself at all," Colt admitted, leading her to the living room where Phillip slept in his playpen. "He wouldn't stop crying and I practically had to force him to eat, and he spit most of it up. He's never been like this when I've babysat him."

"He's probably just cranky," she said. She picked him up, and he immediately awoke and began to wail. "Thanks again." Colt collapsed the playpen and put everything in the car for her. She buckled Phillip into his car seat and drove home, the baby screaming the entire way.

* * *

When Punk gathered the strength to go back inside, Lita tried to talk to him, but Punk just pushed past her. He didn't speak to anyone, not even Zack or Kofi (both of whom approached him as he made his way to the locker room). He changed into street clothes and headed out to the parking lot, still completely numb. But just as he reached his rental car, Lita ambushed him.

"Punk, we really need to talk," she said, but he shook his head.

"We don't have anything to talk about," he told her. "In fact, we can never talk again. If I have any chance at all of ever getting my wife back, I can't be seen with you. I don't want to be seen with you. If we'd been able to control ourselves, maybe we could have been friends. But it's too late for that now. I'm not saying you should quit or ask for a release or something, but we can't… we can't do this. We have to stay away from each other backstage, and if AJ is really returning full time, you have to stay away from her, too."

"No, you've got it all wrong," Lita said quickly. "I don't want to argue with you, that's not why I came out here. I just… wanted to say that I'm sorry."

Punk looked at her sadly. "Me too," he said quietly. "Me too." He got into his car and left, AJ's wedding ring burning a hole in his pocket the whole time.

* * *

"Please eat, sweetie," AJ begged, holding a bottle to Phillip's lips. "Please? You need to eat." He spurted fresh tears, wailing and trying to push the bottle away from his mouth. It was now late Tuesday morning, and Phillip had yet to eat any substantial amount of formula since they'd gotten home. His sleep was restless, and whenever he was awake, he cried almost nonstop. AJ sighed, putting him down in his playpen. "I'm going to call the doctor, okay? I think you're sick." But just as she turned to get her phone off the table, she heard him vomit. She turned back to him, gasping at what she saw.

Blood.

"Oh my God!" she cried, lifting him up. "Oh, are you okay? Oh my God…" Tears forming in her eyes, she grabbed her phone with her free hand and dialed 9-1-1. "Everything's going to be okay, everything will be okay…" But as she tried to soothe him and wipe the blood from his chin, she wasn't so sure.

An ambulance arrived to whisk the two of them off to the hospital, and AJ could barely contain herself as the paramedics took Phillip from her arms and rushed him into the ER. She was forced to wait outside in the lobby, where she sank down against the wall and cried. Removing her phone from her pocket with shaking hands, she carefully punched a number in.

"Punk?" she sobbed. "I need you."


	33. Chapter 33

As soon as Punk got the call, he turned his car around and went back to the airport. He'd been on his way to an arena for this week's Smackdown taping. All thoughts of anger, pain, regret, and sadness were completely banished from his mind as he sped down the highway. He was surprised AJ had contacted him- he was under the impression he wouldn't be seeing Phillip for a long time unless he got lawyers involved. But now wasn't the time for scorn. Right now, it was about their son.

He took the first flight back to Chicago. His fists were clenched so hard the entire time that his knuckles turned white. He was so frazzled that he nearly forgot to call the office. He called Triple H and told his boss that he had a family emergency, nothing more. He nearly broke land speed records driving to the hospital; it was a miracle he didn't get pulled over. He parked haphazardly in the visitor's lot, texting AJ as he arrived and rushed inside the pediatric ER. He searched frantically for her; she was waiting for him in the hallway, arms crossed and cheeks streaked with tears.

"Oh, thank goodness you're here," she whispered, throwing her arms around his neck.

He was too stunned to reciprocate immediately, but eventually he lifted his own arms and wrapped them around her waist. The separated awkwardly a moment later. "How is he?" he asked. "What's wrong? What happened?"

"Well, Colt said he wasn't eating when he babysat," she explained, "and when I brought him home he wouldn't eat, either. All he did was cry. Then he started spitting up blood. They did some tests and found out he had a hernia that tore. The doctor said he's probably had it since birth, and it's taken this long to tear. He's in surgery now."

The word 'surgery' made his knees go slightly weak. AJ had to hold him up. "How… how much longer?" he asked quietly, all the color in his face draining.

"I don't know," she whispered back, tears falling freely. "Oh, Punk, I'm so scared!" She threw her arms around him again, sobbing against him.

"Shhh," he whispered, rubbing her back gently in rhythmic circles. "He's gonna be okay. Come on, let's go sit down." He led her to the waiting room and they sat down. She curled against his chest, clinging to him as she cried. He was terribly conflicted as he held her; on one hand, he was terrified for his son's life. On the other, he was shamefully pleased that AJ was turning to him in her time of need. He bit his lip, silently hating himself for taking advantage of this time.

About an hour later, a surgeon dressed in green scrubs entered the waiting room. "That's him!" AJ announced, springing off Punk's lap. She stood up, Punk standing with her. "Well?"

"He did great," the surgeon answered. "We closed the tear fixed another one that was forming on the other side of the stomach. He's being taken to intensive car now. He'll have a decent scar on his stomach but I don't see why we wouldn't make a full recovery."

"When can we see him?" Punk asked.

"The nurse will take you over there now. He won't be up for a little while, but you can sit with him until he wakes up if you'd like."

"Oh, he's going to be okay," AJ murmured, leaning her head against Punk's chest. "He's going to be okay. He's going to be okay."

They were lead to Phillip's room, and the sight of him spooked them both. He looked very pale and fragile, lying on his back in a plastic bassinet. His torso was covered in bandages, and tubes and wires spiraled out of both his arms. A heart monitor above his bed beeped intermittently.

"He looks… so small," AJ whispered, her eyes widening as they fell upon the sleeping baby. She looked up at Punk, terrified. "But he's going to wake up, right?"

He nodded. "Of course he will," he promised. They pulled up chairs to the bassinet and waited, hands joined as they kept a vigil on their son. When he finally did awaken, he wailed in pain.

"It's okay, little guy," Punk said, leaning over him. "Mommy and Daddy are here. We're here." He kissed his son's forehead, wishing he could pick him up, but they weren't able to yet. So they each took a tiny hand of his, and one of each other's. Together they whispered soothing words to him.

As night fell, Phillip finally cried himself back to sleep. Punk and AJ quietly left the room, as they weren't allowed to spend the night in the pediatric intensive care unit. They went down the parking lot, where he turned to face her.

"So I guess I'll go back to Colt's," Punk said quietly. "I'll see you in the morning." He turned to go to his car, but she tugged on his sleeve to stop him.

"Wait," AJ said. "I came here with the ambulance. Can you…" She looked down.

"Give you a ride?" Punk finished helpfully, and she nodded. "Sure. I parked over here." She followed him to the car, where they both got in and rode in silence back to the house they once shared but hadn't both inhabited in weeks. He parked in the driveway next to her car, an action that almost felt alien to him. But he still found himself getting out automatically, going around the side to open AJ's door for her. He walked her to the door, feeling every bit the proper gentleman he once thought he was.

"Thank you," she told him.

He nodded. "See you tomorrow?" he asked. The tension between them was thick.

She was silent, and he turned to leave. Just as he reached his car, she called out to him. "Hold on," she said, standing in the doorway of the house. "Can you… can you stay?"

He looked back at her. "Do you mean that?" he asked quietly.

She nodded slowly in reply, stepping back from the door so he could come inside. He closed the door behind him, locking it. She looked up at him, biting her lip as she reached up to remove his trademark Cubs hat, placing it on the table next to the door. She smoothed back his cap-worn hair, the act sending a shiver down his spine. Then she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him, slowly and gently. Her lips burned against his; he thought he would never have the privilege of kissing her again. He brought his hands up slowly to rest lightly on her waist, intent on being gentle and letting her take the lead. But she was having none of that. She tugged at his shirt, leading him the couch and falling back on it. She pulled him on top of her, fumbling with his belt buckle.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked, pulling back to look at her.

She responded by kissing him roughly, her hands riding up his back to yank his shirt off. He knew then what she desired from him- intense, raw passion. So he gave her what she wanted, stripping off his clothes and hers. He ran his hands all over her body and bit at her collar bone; the taste of her skin was something he had missed dearly. She clawed at his back, needing desperately to feel what only he could make her experience. He braced himself on the armrest of the couch as she begged him to go harder, faster, as much as he could. He did, feeling his hip bones slam against hers. She threw her head back and moaned his name, crying out just as she felt him finish inside her.

Several minutes later she laid curled his arms, his chin tucked over her shoulder. "Does this… mean we're back together?" he asked, figuring he didn't have anything to lose if it didn't.

"I don't know what this means," she answered quietly, twisting his wedding ring around on his finger. "I don't know what anything means anymore."


	34. Chapter 34

**Author's note: Hey guys! Soooo sorry about the lack of updates. My internet went down on Friday and we weren't able to get anyone out to fix it until this morning. But now we're back up, so I can finally post this chapter! Thanks again to everyone who has reviewed and stuck by me through this rollercoaster of a story. So without further ado here is chapter 34!**

Punk slept on the couch that night, showering in the guest bathroom the next morning. When AJ came down, showered and dressed, she informed them they would be taking separate cars to the hospital. Just in case, she'd said. In case of what, he didn't ask. He decided he would simply play by her rules for now, until she figured out just what exactly it was she really wanted.

It was 7 AM when they arrived, and they headed straight up to the pediatric intensive care ward. "How was he last night?" Punk asked his nurse, who was about to leave and be replaced by the day shift.

"Better than expected," she answered. "We gave him some pain medication so he would be more comfortable. He's still on IV fluids so he doesn't have to eat. His stomach is still going to be very sore for maybe another week or so."

AJ thanked her and they went into the room, where a groggy Phillip was awake. His eyes lit up as soon as they landed on his parents. His pudgy arms jerked in their direction as he tried to roll over. "Shhh, no, it's okay, baby, don't roll," AJ said sweetly, bending over him. "Mommy and Daddy are here now, okay? That's my sweet boy." She smoothed his tufts of hair back; he cooed and smiled. Punk reached his hand into the bassinet, and Phillip's tiny hand closed firmly around his father's index finger.

"Daddy's little fighter," Punk said quietly. He leaned over and kissed Phillip's forehead.

Phillip drifted in and out for a few hours at a time the rest of the day. Punk and AJ spent part of that time in silence, but gradually the tension began to dissipate and they started to talk.

"They want me to feud with Lita," she told him as they ate lunch. "At first I said no because I thought I wouldn't be able to handle it, but now I think I can take it. I figure it's like you and Daniel. You hated each other but you could wrestle just fine, usually. It made for some great matches."

"Are you really sure you would be able to handle that?" he asked.

"Of course I can," she replied evenly. "I'm not the weak little girl I was when we first…" She shook her head. "Anyway, I can handle it. I'll stiff her a lot and she won't do anything about it."

Punk felt terrible. A few weeks ago, AJ would have been thrilled at the chance to work with her lifelong hero. Now, she was looking forward to tearing her apart.

* * *

That night, Punk went back to Colt's apartment. "I don't get it," Punk said. They were sitting on the couch, drinking Pepsi. "She fucked me the other night-well, it was really me fucking her, but that's not the point-and then made me go back to your place tonight. It makes no sense."

"She's feeling all vulnerable because the kid's fucked up," Colt explained. "But she doesn't want to let you back in just yet, so she's testing you."

"You know, saying stuff like 'the kid is fucked up' doesn't make you sound like a badass," Punk noted. Then he shrugged. "Whatever. Anyway, it's completely messing with my head. I don't know what the fuck is happening to me. I've never been so… subservient before. I just kind of sit there and listen and… let her take the lead, I guess. After her little 'pipe bomb' moment on RAW I actually got down on my knees and begged her to tell me what I could do to win her back. I've never done shit like that before. Ever. I've never gone so long without cockiness and sarcasm in my life."

"That's because you've never loved another human being before," Colt pointed out, taking a long sip of his soda. "Anyone who wasn't family or me or Paul Heyman, anyway." He shrugged. "What can I say, man. Love makes you do crazy things, and you gotta do what you gotta do to get your baby mama back."

Punk stared at him skeptically over the rim of his soda can. "Baby mama? Seriously? What are we, inner city boys? It's a little bit deeper than that, Colt. She's my wife. You do remember the wedding, don't you? You were my best man."

Colt shrugged again. "You're mincing words. Point is, you're playing by her rules now. If you want to get back to your life and not live on my couch forever, you have to swallow your pride."

* * *

Phillip's recovery flew by, as he grew stronger and stronger with each passing day. By Friday, the doctors were confident they would be able to send him home in the morning. The news both overjoyed and dismayed Punk. He was happy that his son was doing so well, but he didn't want his peaceful time with AJ to come to an end. The thought made him feel incredibly selfish.

"So what happens from here?" he asked her that night as they left the hospital, before they parted ways in the parking lot.

She turned to face him. "What do you mean?"

"This," he answered, gesturing between them. "Us. You and me."

"I… I don't know," she said nervously, twirling her car keys around on one finger. "I just… I need more time, Punk."

"How much more time do you need?" he asked, before he could stop himself. "I know it's hard to believe, but this whole thing hurts me, too."

She sighed. "I need time," she replied simply.

He nodded, remembering Colt's words: he needed to play by her rules. "I'll see you in the morning, then," he said. "Good night." He turned to walk to his car. He was about to open the door when he heard her call out to him. He turned back to find her walking toward him. He smirked playfully. "I don't suppose you're trying to take me home for more rough living room sex?"

She chuckled, in spite of herself, before becoming serious again. "Look, they're releasing Phillip tomorrow," she said. "And I want us all to go home together... as a family."

"You… you really mean that?" he asked quietly, almost too shocked to believe it.

She nodded. "Since Phillip got sick, I realized that there's no way I could ever stop loving you, or imagine my life without you in it. But love isn't all it takes to fix things. I'm still really, really hurt, and I don't trust you anymore. It's going to take a lot to rebuild what we had."

"Anything," he said quickly. "Name your conditions. Short of shaving me bald and parading me through the village square in shame, I'll agree to it."

"I get to check your stuff whenever I want," she replied. "Text messages, call logs, e-mail, everything."

"Done," he said. "All I ever get is spam and stupid picture messages from Zack, anyway. Anything else?"

"Yeah. If I see you or hear about you talking to her, I'm setting your first edition comic collection on fire and kicking your ass to the curb. I realize we're probably going to all be thrown into some story together because of the stunt I pulled on Monday, but if you start hanging around her again outside of work, we're done. Got it?"

He nodded. He could accept all of these. "Can I kiss you now?"

In answer, she stepped closer and gently pressed her lips against hers. The feeling made his heart flutter again. It took every 'manly' bone in his body not to tear up in happiness.

* * *

They took Phillip home the next morning, with strict instructions to be gentle and not let him crawl around too much. He fell asleep in the car on the way to the house, and they put him to bed in his crib together. They stood over him with broad smiles, both happy their son was healthy again… and happy to be watching over him together.

They went to lie down in their bedroom, Punk with his back to the headboard and AJ curled against him. She turned her head to look up at him, smiling. "I think I'd like my ring back now," she said.

He pulled his wallet out and opened it, shaking it into his hands until the ring popped out of one of the pockets. He slid it onto her finger. "Perfect fit," he said.

"I hope I never have to take it off again," she whispered, her head falling back against his chest.

"You won't," he said. "I promise."


	35. Chapter 35

Punk bargained for another week off to spend with Phillip, who was still healing. His wish was thankfully granted, and he was able to spend a blissful seven more days at home with his two favorite people. They barely left the house all week, spending all of their time with the baby and with each other. By Wednesday his pain and tenderness had lessened enough that he could crawl again, the true sign that he was now back to normal.

But their private, peaceful time together ended all too soon, and on Sunday night Punk found himself packing for three: his bag, AJ's, and a bag for Phillip to take to Colt's. He hated the thought of being away from his son again, but he knew it would be even more difficult for AJ, so he kept his composure. She managed to resist and a breakdown when they dropped him off, but she couldn't help but spurt a few tears on the way to the airport.

As AJ had expected, they were informed of the new direction they would be going in upon their arrival at RAW. Punk's feud with Wade Barret was now going to heavily involve AJ and Lita. For now, AJ was still going to be upset with Punk onscreen. She would call Lita out in the ring for her actions, and Wade would come to her aid. The result would be an inter-gender tag match.

"Are you sure you can do this?" Punk asked her, for what AJ was sure was the hundredth time that day.

"I'll be fine," she assured him. "You don't have to worry about me. I know what I'm doing."

He nodded and gave her a kiss on the forehead. He had noticed over the past week that she had been having a tough time being emotionally connected to him. It wasn't terribly difficult to for him to figure out why, as he'd had similar trouble when he and AJ had first gotten together. Every time AJ touched him, every time she lay in his arms or kissed him or slept next to him, every time she closed her eyes, she saw him with Lita.

It killed him inside, to know that she was still hurting this bad, but at the same time he couldn't possibly blame her. He knew it would take far longer than a week for her to heal. As it was, he was astounded that she'd taken him back so quickly. He only hoped that she would, in time, be able to be at true peace with him.

* * *

AJ waited with Punk by the curtain for her cue. She rolled her head from side to side, waiting until her music hit to trudge down the ramp. She was dressed in her tights and armed with a microphone, her expression all business as she climbed into the ring. She waited for the applause to die down. "I'm here to address everything I said last week," she said coldly. "I said I wasn't going acknowledge her, but I can't deal with seeing her face everywhere." She turned to face the ramp. "You know who you are, so get the hell down here, now!"

There was a moment of pause before Lita's music blared, and the crowd went wild as the red-headed diva came down the ramp. Her eyes were glued to AJ as she made her way to the ring with a mic. "What do you want from me, AJ?" she asked. Her expression was soft.

AJ swallowed hard; looking her in the eye was difficult when all she wanted was to tear the woman in front of her limb from limb. "I want to you to tell the truth," she demanded. "Tell everyone here who idolizes you just like they idolize Punk what you did. Admit it to them. All of them." She gestured widely to the audience.

Lita's eyes narrowed. "You want me to tell the truth?" she echoed. "Fine! I will! I slept with your husband, AJ. I did. I did it. It was me. And you know what? At first, I was sorry. But then I thought about it, and I realized… why should _I _feel bad? It's not my fault you're too much of a little girl to keep him interested in you."

AJ felt rage she'd never experienced before building up inside her. "How dare you," she growled. "You are _not _going to take my husband away from me!"

Lita threw back her head and laughed. "I don't think that's up to you anymore, sweetheart."

AJ dropped her mic and launched herself off the ropes at Lita. She landed on her former hero and unleashed a flurry of kayfabe punches at the woman beneath her. AJ wished she could punch Lita for real, but the bloody nose she'd given her the week before had been pushing it enough. But Lita wasn't having it. She shifted AJ under her and began throwing very hard, very real punches. AJ managed to dodge most of them, but one sharp left hook managed to connect with her eye.

Just as it did, Punk's music hit. He came running down the ramp and dove into the ring, yanking Lita off. AJ sat up and put a hand to her eye, touching the small cut that had opened up just below it. Her fingers came away with drops of blood. Furious again, she jumped to her feet to get back to Lita, but Punk caught her mid-stride. She strained against her husband's grip. "Let me go!" she cried, as Lita laughed mere yards away from her. "Let me go, she hit me!" She felt a welt forming around her eye.

Wade Barrett's music began to play. The Nexus leader proceeded to the ring with his usual air of cockiness, brandishing a microphone. "It looks like things are becoming just a little bit uneven down here," he said, climbing through the ropes. "Was Daniel Bryan not enough for you, Punk? Now you've got your wife beating up the diva's division, too?"

"This has nothing to do with you," Punk snapped, having grabbed AJ's mic. He was still holding AJ back with his other arm. "Get out of here."

"I disagree," Wade said. "Look at what's happening here. This little pit of drama here has only served to further confirm what I've been telling everyone all along- that you're no real man at all. First you mortally wound Daniel Bryan, and then you cheat on your wife?" He shook his head, grinning. "Not to mention, it's two ganging up on one. I know how _you _operate, Punk, but I'm sure the rest of us don't think that's quite fair." He went over to Lita. "I think she deserves someone in her corner. Luckily for her and myself, I've gotten word from the Board of Directors. Because of the current champion's injury, the Diva's championship is now up for grabs. So our match at Summerslam, Punk, is now an inter-gender tag team match. Here's the fun part; regardless of who gets the pin our submission, both members of that team win their respective championships."

The crowd went wild; AJ fought wildly against Punk's grip, but he held her firm. "You really want both of us?" Punk yelled. "You have no idea the box you've opened, Wade. You've got it!" He began making his way out of the ring, but AJ finally yanked free and stopped him. She snatched the mic from him; Punk knew they had planned this part.

"Let's get one thing straight, Punk," she snapped. "Just because I'm forced to work with you in this match doesn't mean I've forgiven you. No, you'll actually have to man up for once and _work _for that privilege." She threw the mic down and stormed off, leaving Punk to follow.

As soon as they got backstage, Punk turned to hug her. "You did great," he told her. "Come here, let me see your eye."

"She did this on purpose," AJ growled. "She punched me in the face _on purpose_, Punk." She winced as he ran his thumb over the bruise (which was rapidly becoming a black eye) just as Lita came through the curtain. "You fucking bitch! That was no accident, and you know it!"

Lita just grinned sweetly at her and kept walking. Grimacing, Punk looked down at AJ, who was again struggling in his arms to get to Lita. He looked over at Zack, who appeared at his side. "Make sure she doesn't kill anyone?" he asked. Zack nodded, and led AJ away as Punk went after Lita.

"What the fuck did you do?" Punk yelled angrily at her, cornering her in the hallway. "After everything, you're going to punch my wife purposely? What the hell?"

"I'm done playing by everyone else's rules," Lita snapped back. "I'm done letting 'scandals' like this ruin my career. It happened seven years ago and I'm not letting it happen again. I made a mistake by leaving. I let years pass when I could have been doing what I love. So back off, Punk. Go deal with your crazy wife." She shoved past him and breezed out of the arena.


	36. Chapter 36

"Fuck her," AJ muttered, holding an ice pack to her eye. She was sitting on a bench in the locker room, across from Zack. "Everyone thinks she's so amazing."

"So did you, awhile ago," Zack reminded her.

"That was before she fucked my husband," she pointed out. "You know, before I wasn't even _that _mad at her. I know I sort of freaked out on her last week, but I knew it wasn't really her fault. Not as much as it was his fault, anyway. But now she's just throwing it in my face! God damn it, it just makes me so mad to even think about!" She started to stand up. "I'm going to go find her, and-"

"Hey, hey, hey," Zack said, moving to stand in front of her. "Relax. Don't get all worked up. Let's just wait for Punk, okay?"

She grumbled but sat down, holding the ice pack back up. Punk entered a moment later, looking furious but trying to keep his anger down. His expression softened when it fell upon AJ, and he sat down next to her. "Are you all right?" he asked, stroking her cheek gently.

"I'm fine," she replied quietly, shivering under his touch. "I just want to go lie down, okay?"

Punk nodded, standing up to grab their duffel bags. "All right," he said. "Let's go."

They whisked out of the arena, AJ unconsciously ducking as they walked. She would never admit it, but part of her was fearful of Lita. She was taller, stronger, and more experienced. If it ever came down to it, AJ would have to rely on her speed, not her strength, to get the upper hand on Lita.

She considered all of this as Punk drove them back to their hotel. He put their bags down and turned on the shower, giving it time for the water to warm up. "Now let me see it already," he said. AJ turned her face but he turned it back, tilting her head up to examine the damage. A black and blue bruise was forming around her right eye. The cut just below it had stopped bleeding. "Okay, it's not too bad. It should start fading in a week or so, hopefully."

"You have a little too much experience with black eyes," AJ noted with a wry smile.

"Fourteen years of wrestling," Punk explained simply. "Come on, let's shower."

She nodded, and they stripped off their clothes. Punk took a deep breath as they stepped into the shower; seeing AJ unclothed still felt like a privilege he had yet to earn back. He put his hands gingerly on her shoulders, drawing her close against his chest. "Tell me what I can do," he said. "Tell me what I can do to make everything better."

She sighed, closing her eyes as the sound of his heartbeat thumped against his ear. "I just wish I didn't have to see her," she whispered. "But I know I don't have a choice. And it's really my fault, too. If I had just kept my damn mouth shut, and kept our problems to ourselves, this wouldn't have happened…" She started to cry, the tears on her cheeks mixing with the water from the shower.

"Shhh," he muttered, rubbing her back. "It's not your fault, okay? It's not. It's… it's mine. It's my fault." He knew it was just going to be one of those nights. He hated that, once again, AJ was in pain as a direct result of his actions. "Please tell me how I can make it better, baby. Anything."

She looked up at him; she had plenty of things she could say to him. But she decided instead to let it go, to keep everything inside. "Just hold me," she said quietly. "Just tell me everything's going to be okay."

"It will," he assured her, kissing the top of her head.

* * *

Lita was alone in her own hotel room, sitting on the end of her bed. She still wasn't sure what had gotten into her tonight. The new story was supposed to cast her as the villain, yes, but there was no reason to transfer that persona beyond the line of kayfabe. Why had she attacked AJ that way? It wasn't the other diva's fault, by any means. Then why was she taking out all of her anger on the one person who was absolutely blameless in this situation.

She got up and went to the window, leaning against the cool glass. As she started out at the night skyline, it came to her. The young, vibrant, talented AJ reminded Lita of herself. AJ represented everything that Lita was when she first started out in the WWE, and was developing into everything she could have been. AJ was rising rapidly to the top. It was a place Lita had gotten to and could have stayed at, had she not let what started out as a heated affair and ended in a failed relationship take over and ruin her career. That was it. It had to be.

She was jealous of AJ.

Despite several large bumps in the road-namely, Daniel Bryan and now herself-AJ had lived the fairytale that Lita had worked so hard for and later lost. She had the guy she fell in love with, the perfect little family, and what was certainly shaping up to be the illustrious career. Thinking of it now, how AJ had gotten everything that Lita had thrown away on a fling.

Did AJ deserve her anger? Probably not, no. But she didn't care anymore. She'd spent the last seven years fading into the background, wishing she hadn't made the mistakes that had landed her there. The vast majority of the public was under the impression that all of this purely storyline, that Punk and AJ's marriage had yet to suffer a single blemish. So Lita didn't have to let this get her down. It could be her time again.

Punk and AJ weren't at Smackdown the next day (_probably at home with their perfect little wonder baby, _she thought), as they weren't scheduled to perform. But Lita was, in a match with Kaitlyn. She absolutely dominated the younger diva throughout the entire match, slamming her against the canvas and delivering a brutal Twist of Fate to finish her off. She couldn't help but think she was being particularly rough with Kaitlyn because of who her best friend was, but she didn't care.

After the match, Kaitlyn limped away to the back and Lita demanded a mic. Her wish was granted and she stood in the middle of the ring, panting as she flicked her hair from in front of her face. "You may have thought I was a little rough tonight," she began, "but that's only a taste of what's to come. That match at Summerslam next week means everything to me… And I'm going to win my championship belt by any means necessary. I'm coming for you, AJ. Don't get too comfortable."


	37. Chapter 37

Punk and AJ spent the next few days home with Phillip, both trying their best not think about the impending match at Summerslam. Punk was certain he and Wade would be just fine; they'd wrestled before and could work together well. No, it was AJ and Lita he was worried about. They had never worked a match together, and Punk wasn't so sure about whether or not the two of them would be able to wrestle without tearing each other apart.

He voiced his concerns to her on Friday afternoon, as they packed their bags for their late-night flight. "I'll be fine," she assured him, folding her tights and placing them in her suitcase. "I can handle it."

"She gave you a black eye in what was supposed to be a quick, simple fight," he reminded her. "How do I know neither of you are going to go overboard with stiffing each other and end up, well… in a situation like the one I had with Bryan?" He took a deep breath; he didn't even want to think about that being even a remote possibility.

"Stop worrying so much," she chided. "I have this down. I'm faster than her. I can slip away if I have to."

"But she's not just going to be at your mercy in the ring," he pointed out. "You'll be at hers."

She put a hand to his cheek. "I'm going to be just fine, baby," she said. "I promise."

"Just be careful, okay?"

* * *

Later that night, they said another tearful (for AJ, anyway) goodbye to Phillip as they dropped him off at Punk's mother's house. "I can't wait until he gets a little older," AJ said as they drove to the airport. "Then we can take him on the road. I hate leaving him at home."

"Soon," Punk promised. "When he's about a year old." It felt good talking about Phillip, one of the only things he felt he'd managed to do perfectly in his life. Thinking about his son instead of his impending match at Summerslam helped to take the edge off.

They arrived in San Diego, CA late Friday night. Punk tried to sleep, as they had early morning interviews and Axxess signings, but it was hopeless. He tossed and turned for several hours before finally giving up, going down to the hotel gym. He knew it was probably a bad idea to exhaust himself, but sitting on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands was driving him crazy. So he poured out his frustration the best way he knew how.

He was running on the treadmill when he heard the door behind him open. He ignored it; normally he was the only one who ever worked out this late, but he didn't care who had decided to join him. He ignored the footfalls around him, until he was dimly aware of someone standing directly behind him.

"So," came a voice.

Grumbling, Punk slowed the treadmill to a stop and turned around. "What?" he growled, but his eyes widened as soon as his eyes landed on the person the voice belonged to. "What the fuck do you want?"

"Just to talk," Lita answered simply. She was leaning against a weight machine.

"I have nothing to say to you." He turned away.

"Oh, come on, don't be like that," she said.

"I can't talk to you, and I don't want to," he said flatly.

"Really, Punk? We're back to that game again?"

He turned back to face her. "This isn't a game," he snapped. "I'm just starting to get my marriage back on track. The last thing I want to do is fuck it up again by being seen talking to you. Not to mention that, oh yeah, you _punched my wife in the face on purpose_."

She laughed. "So that's the story you're going with? Oh, Punk, I know you better than that. Somehow, I don't think you would have slept with me if you really cared about her as much as you say you do."

He felt his skin burn at her words. "That's bullshit. I love my wife. I wouldn't have married her if I didn't."

"And I think _that's _bullshit," she said. "Here's what _I _think happened. You were infatuated with the newest girl on the block, just like you always are. You fucked around for a little while, and then… surprise! She's pregnant! So you not wanting to be the asshole-or at least look like the asshole-who kicks his girl to the curb when she gets knocked up, you marry her. Very traditional. It's okay, Punk. I get it. You're trapped. It doesn't make you a bad person." She reached out to touch his cheek. "I know what you really want."

"Let's get things straight," he growled, smacking her hand away. "I _love _AJ. I loved her before she got pregnant, I loved her after, and I'll always love her. She was considering not going through with the pregnancy, did you know that? Because she didn't _want _me to feel trapped. _I _convinced her to keep it, and now we have a family. So nice try, but you're wrong."

She just laughed again. "That's cute," she said, "but I know you."

"You clearly don't know the first thing about me." He bent down to grab his towel and water bottle.

"You're wrong, Punk!" she called after him as he passed her by to exit the gym. "Out of everyone in this world that you know, I'm the one who knows you best. I always have."

_Don't let her mess with your head, _he told himself as he left her alone in the gym. _She's trying to get into your head. She's trying to make you mess up. Don't let it happen. _He went back to the room, showering quickly and slipping into bed beside AJ. He curled an arm protectively around her waist, taking a deep breath to prepare for what tomorrow would bring them.

* * *

Saturday flew by in a blur. An early morning news segment for him, a radio interview for her. Podcasts. Press conference. Separate signings and photo ops at Summerslam Axxess. It was an old dance that he was very familiar with, the pre-PPV press explosion. It was a whirlwind of a day, being whisked from one event to the next, but oddly relaxing. It allowed him to turn his brain off and simply be himself, laughing with AJ and greeting fans with a genuine smile.

Punk was exhausted by the time they returned to their hotel room that night. AJ gave him a much-needed massage, all the while chatting away about her day. "The radio interview was okay, but the signing was the best," she said. "I tried to take a decent amount of time to talk to everyone. Some fans are just really sweet, you know?"

He smiled and nodded. "You know, I love hearing you talk."

She chuckled. "Really?"

"Really."

"Well, I hope my constant victory speeches don't bore you tomorrow."

He laughed. "They won't. I promise."

* * *

They were up early the next day to get to the arena. They arrived already in their tights, and AJ went off to gossip with Kaitlyn as Punk sat on a bench with his iPhone. He had to do his pre-show music ritual; it was tradition. He closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the wall as drum solos and guitar riffs filled his ears. It worked well to clear his head and make him forget about his late night conversation with Lita on Friday.

He wasn't sure how much time had passed, but eventually he felt a tap on his shoulder. He opened his eyes to find AJ in front of him, smiling. "Ready?" she asked. "The show just started. We're on in about… an hour and a half." She took him by the hand and led him over to the monitors, where they sat and watched the progression of the show so far. About halfway through, Zack came up between them and clapped a hand on their shoulders.

"Ready to make history?" he asked. "You know, inter-gender championship match and all."

"Sure am," Punk answered. "How was the pre-show?"

Zack grimaced. "Come on, bro. Don't make this worse for me than it already was."

Punk just laughed, but AJ slapped his arm warningly. "Stop being so mean," she said. She looked at Zack. "You'll get yours," she assured him. "You're too popular not to." She sprang up off her chair, pulling Punk with her. "Come on, we're on in a few!"

Punk couldn't help but notice how excited she was. He hoped it was a sign of good things to come.


	38. Chapter 38

**Author's note: Hey guys! Again I must apologize in the update delays. I am still having a lot of issues with my internet and it's getting in the way of important things like this story! But you all know I'm good for it :) Also, another apology for making anyone here hate Lita. It may seem crazy but I actually do love her, she's always been one of my favorites, I just thought she would make such a great villain in this story! But anyway here it is, chapter 38! Enjoy!**

AJ's music hit first. She appeared at the top of the ramp with her usual bright smile, proceeding to skip down to the ring where Lita and Wade Barret waited for her. She hopped up to the ring and slid through the ropes, waiting by the nearest turnbuckle as the familiar static that preceded Punk's music played.

Punk stopped at the stage as he usually did, dropping to a knee and tapping his wrist. "It's clobberin' time!" he yelled, and ran down to the ring. He stripped off his shirt and threw it as he stood on the second rope, looking out at the crowd. They were just begging for a long, brutal match… and he knew they were going to deliver.

The referee held up both the WWE and the Diva's championship belts, handing them off and signaling for the bell to ring. As soon as it did, Punk and Wade locked up.

* * *

"Go, Punk!" AJ shouted from behind the ropes. The match had gone on for about ten minutes so far, and neither Punk nor Wade were budging a bit. Punk backed his opponent into the corner opposite AJ, hitting him several times before they heard a loud smack. Both men froze, before realizing what had happened- Lita had tagged herself in by slapping Wade on the back. The ref glared at both Wade and Punk, ordering them out of the ring.

Punk backed into the opposite corner, looking fearfully at AJ. "Be careful," he advised, climbing over the ropes as she climbed in. "Watch yourself."

AJ just nodded, giving him a sweet smile as she readied herself by the ropes. But as soon as she turned around, Lita had speared her into the turnbuckle. She gasped, leaning her head back in pain. She kicked at Lita's stomach, sending her flying backwards. She reared back, glaring at a very satisfied-looking Lita as she launched herself off the ropes and into the other Diva. They fell back onto the mat, AJ throwing wild punches as Lita rotated her head around to dodge.

Lita kicked AJ off of her. AJ rolled away, backing into the ropes. She panted heavily, trying to regain her breath as she looked up, dimly aware of a shadow above her. She realized, just in time, that Lita was diving toward her off the top rope. She rolled under the ropes, watching with a turned head as Lita crashed to the mat below.

AJ hopped back over the ropes, jumping up to pull Lita into a hurricanrana. The move pulled the redhead down, and AJ hurried to get her into a roll-up- but Lita easily kicked out at a two count, shoving AJ back and getting to her feet with a grin.

AJ's eyes widened as she backed away, but Lita was already on her with a sharp, well-aimed head butt to AJ's stomach. The force of the move sent AJ reeling backwards, bouncing back against the ropes. Lita took advantage of the momentum, as it propelled AJ forward… and right into Lita's outstretched arm. AJ groaned as she fell; Lita was really hitting it hard.

"Tag me!" Punk yelled frantically. He leaned over the rope with his arm stretched out.

AJ scrambled against the mat, struggling to crawl toward Punk. She reached for him, her hand inches from his, when she felt herself being dragged backwards- Lita had gotten a hold of one of her legs.

"No!" Punk cried. He leaned as far out as he could. His fingertips were just about to brush hers when he felt a boot to his back; Wade had stopped him from making the tag. By the time Punk recovered and stood up again, Wade was already back on his side of the ring and AJ was in the middle, thrashing wildly to kick out of a pin.

Punk could tell what Lita was doing. She was keeping control of the match, making sure she completely dominated AJ so Punk couldn't be tagged back in. He knew he was supposed to retain, but the other team wasn't going down without a hell of a fight. But as the match wore on, with AJ just narrowly escaping defeat several more times, a realization began to dawn on him: Lita wasn't planning on losing.

_Fuck, I need to get in there,_ he thought. "AJ, tag me!" he called, leaning as far into the ring as he could.

But the two Divas were entangled in the middle, where Lita was trying to get AJ into a sleeper hold. AJ twisted out of Lita's arms; while this allowed her to escape, it also sent her spinning back into the turnbuckle that Wade was waiting behind. He gave her a shove. It was fairly gentle, but just powerful enough to guide her right back into Lita's clutches.

AJ quickly ducked to avoid a punch, whirling around to deliver a spinning heel kick, but Lita had been prepared for that. She grabbed AJ's ankle and twisted it, sending both of them to the mat. AJ gasped, howling in pain; she'd landed rather sharply. She inched away from Lita, trying desperately to get to Punk and make the tag.

As she neared him, Punk noticed a devious expression had come upon Lita's face. "Lita, don't," he warned, but she simply winked at him before dragging AJ back into the middle again. _Fuck this, I have to do something, _he thought, and began to climb into the ring… only to be yelled back to the sidelines by the referee. Grumbling, he obeyed, knowing that a disqualification was not the finish that upper management desired.

The ref turned back to face the action, just in time to see AJ fall back to the mat after Lita had intercepted a clothesline. With her eyes locked on Punk the whole time, Lita dropped to the mat to grab one of AJ's legs, pulling it back effortlessly for a pin. AJ, still stunned, could do nothing to stop it. Punk, knowing he would only get disqualified for laying a hand on Lita, was helpless behind the ropes as the ref made the count.

The bell rang, signaling the end of the match. Wade stepped into the ring, confused with the finish but not complaining. He knew this wasn't how the match was supposed to end, but found himself not caring that much; after all, he was champion now. He grabbed Lita and spun her around in celebration, but she was all but ignoring him as the ref handed her what was now her Diva's championship belt. Wade simply shrugged and accepted his new belt, which fit perfectly around his waist.

Punk could only watch in horror. He hurried into the ring to help AJ up. "Are you okay?" he asked, helping her stand.

She nodded slowly. "I think so," she answered. "My head hurts a little. What… what happened?"

"They fucked us," Punk growled. "That's what happened." He left her by the ropes to confront the two, who were still celebrating in the middle of the ring.

"Come to congratulate us?" Lita asked teasingly.

"What the hell was that?" Punk snapped.

"I'm just taking what's mine, Punk," Lita replied sweetly.

"You know damn well-"

"Punk, come on," AJ interrupted, tugging at his arm. "Let's go."

"Looks like your kid sister needs you," Lita said, smirking. She turned back to Wade, who still looked a little dazed in the middle of the ring, but he quickly regained his composure.

"This victory was not just for me," Wade proclaimed proudly, holding the belt above his head. "This was for all of the Nexus, and for our fallen brother!"

Punk winced, thinking of Daniel, who was almost certainly watching the events unfold on TV. "Come on," AJ urged again. "Let's… let's just go, okay?"

Punk allowed himself to be led away, glaring back angrily at Lita and Wade as he backtracked up the ramp. All the while AJ hung her head in shame._ It's my fault,_ she thought. _I'm sorry._


	39. Chapter 39

Punk was furious. He paced around angrily backstage, cornering Wade as soon as the new champion came through the curtain. "What the hell was that?" he demanded.

"What the hell was what?" Wade echoed.

"You know damn well what I mean," Punk growled. "You know I was supposed to retain. Were you in this together? Were you planning this?"

"No!" the British champ snapped. "You think I have any control over her? This was her show, Punk. One of us was supposed to tag back in, and you were supposed to pin me. I had no idea she was planning this. I don't even know if she _was _planning it."

"Oh, she was planning it, all right," Punk muttered, shaking his head.

"Look, I don't know what to tell you," Wade said flatly. "I don't know what's really going on with all of you, and frankly, I don't really care. Until the boys upstairs see fit to take this away from me, it's mine now." He knocked on the face of the belt. "It looks like it needs a new nameplate." He turned and walked away.

All the while AJ stood at Punk's side, her bottom lip quivering. Despite being strong and no-nonsense the past few weeks, it had only taken a few moments to revert her back to the quiet, terrified girl she had once been. She clung to his arm, quietly begging him to calm down, and apologizing nonstop.

"AJ, stop it!" Punk ordered, shaking her off his arm.

"I… I… I'm sorry," AJ whispered.

"No, that's what I mean! Stop apologizing! It's not your-" But before he could even finish his sentence, she had already run off, silent tears streaming down her cheeks. "God damn it!"

* * *

AJ ran through the back halls of the arena, trying her best to avoid everyone she passed. She finally found a maintenance closet and locked herself inside, sinking to her knees to cry. It was all her fault. She hadn't listened to Punk. She'd been too cocky, hadn't been careful enough. And her recklessness had caused him to lose the WWE championship, as well as her own shot at the Diva's championship.

As she was loathing in her misery, she heard a loud knock on the door. "Go away," she muttered.

"I know you're in there," Kaitlyn intoned. "Come on. Open the door."

"Just let me be alone!" AJ cried.

"I'm not leaving," Kaitlyn said flatly. "You've been pushing me and everyone else away. I'm your best friend, damn it. I was your maid of honor. Let me do my duties. Open the door!"

"I just want to sit and cry by myself, okay?"

"Hold on a sec," Kaitlyn replied. "Oh, good, I do have a bobby pin in my hair. All right, hang tight. This should just take a few minutes…" The doorknob began to jiggle, presumably because Kaitlyn was attempting to pick the lock.

"All right, all right," AJ muttered. She unlocked the door and opened it. Her blonde-haired best friend stood before her, still in her tights although she hadn't wrestled that night.

"Talk to me," Kaitlyn demanded. "Why are you so upset? Was that not supposed to happen?"

"No," AJ blubbered, leaning her head against the taller Diva's shoulder. "Punk was supposed to retain and I was supposed to win the Diva's championship. But I… I screwed it up…"

"And how does Lita going off-script and pinning you mean _you _screwed up?" Kaitlyn asked. "That's not your fault, AJ."

"But it is!" AJ protested. "We had a feeling she was going to try something like this, and I knew I had to be quick and not stay down too long, because otherwise she might get me, but I… I don't know what happened. I lost focus or something, I wasn't fast enough, I wasn't paying attention, I wasn't strong enough, and I let Punk down…" She started to cry again.

"You really think he blames you?" Kaitlyn shook her head. "No way! He's worried about you. He knows it's not your fault; he blames her. Kofi and Zack are busy trying to make sure he doesn't break someone's arm tonight. That's why I came to find you."

"I'm not as good a wrestler as she is," AJ said miserably. "I should have seen it coming from a million miles away, but I didn't. She's so much better than I am. He'll probably leave me for her, and then I'll be alone again."

Kaitlyn laughed. "Okay, now I know you're insane," she said. "You know full well that every word you just said is completely stupid… and also not true. So stop being so down on yourself, okay? She's a bitch, and she'll probably have to drop the belt to you in like two weeks as punishment for going off-script. Come on, let's go get a milkshake."

"I don't think I-"

"No arguments. Milkshakes. Now."

AJ sighed. There was no arguing with Kaitlyn. But somehow, that was all right with her. She needed someone to drag her out of her self-loathing right now.

hr

"Punk, calm down," Kofi said slowly.

"Who the fuck does she think she is?" Punk cried. "Blatant disregard for safety, stealing my title, stealing my wife's title… _Who the fuck does she think she is_?" He shoved a stack of boxes next to him, sending them tumbling to the ground.

"You know that little vein on the side of your head that starts pulsing whenever you're angry?" Kofi asked. "I think it's about to explode. Sit down before you give yourself a stroke or something."

"Why is it always us calming him down, and never the other way around?" Zack asked quietly.

"Because he's from Chicago," Kofi answered. "We were raised by normal people in nice neighborhoods."

"This is fucking ridiculous!" Punk shouted. "There's no way this will fly. There's no way. They'll make them drop the belts to us next week, and-"

"And what if they don't?" Kofi interrupted. "What if Hunter or Vince-or worse, both of them-decide they like it, and you don't get your belts? What are you going to do then?"

"I…" Punk paused. "I don't know. Fuck, I don't know. Do you really think that would happen?"

"I don't know, but you have to prepare yourself for the possibility of that happening," Kofi replied. "You have to prepare for it and deal with it. And you need to stop with these crazy fits of rage, you're scaring the hell out of your wife. She feels bad enough as it is. She's crying in a closet somewhere right now."

Punk sighed. "Fuck, really? But it's not her fault. She knows that."

"She clearly doesn't," Kofi pointed out. "She's over there blaming herself. You need to go and make sure she stops believing that."

"When and where did you learn so much about the female mind?" Punk asked wryly.

"I've been married for a lot longer than you," Kofi reminded him. "Go."

Punk nodded and sighed. "Thanks, man." He went off in search of AJ, managing to keep his anger under the surface, but his rage was silently building. After several minutes of fruitless searching, his phone vibrated- a text from AJ. 'Went to get milkshakes with Kaitlyn,' it read. 'Meet you at the hotel.' He sighed with relief- good. AJ was in desperate need of girl time. It left him off the hook for comforting her, for now. And it gave him time for some much-needed confrontations.


	40. Chapter 40

Lita was grabbing her bag from the locker room when Punk barged right in. "You want to tell me just what the fuck you were doing out there?" he demanded.

"Taking control of my own life for once," she answered simply, not meeting his gaze.

"Bullshit," he snapped. "You're- you're trying to get revenge on me for not loving you back anymore and you're taking it out on AJ, taking away everything she's worked for, and everything _I've _worked for, with a blatant disregard for safety, and-"

"And what?" she said, cutting off his ramble in mid-sentence. "You think this is about you, Punk? It's not. Not anymore. This time, it's about me. It's about not letting the stupid shit I manage to get myself caught up in ruin my career. I don't care who I have to step on to get back to the top."

"You selfish bitch," he growled. "You're going to regret this."

She laughed. "I'm gonna regret it? Yeah, you're right, Punk. I'm regretting it right now. Watch me regret it right out the door." She strode past him, chuckling as she left him furious and alone. She headed out to the parking lot, tossing her bag in the trunk and getting into her rental car. Just as she was about to turn it on, her phone rang. "Seriously? Midnight? Who could it possibly be?" Then she smiled as she answered. "Hey, Trish. What's up?"

"Hey, yourself," Trish answered. "What's up with _you_, Amy? I was watching the pay-per-view. What did you do? I know I'm not exactly on the inside anymore, but word is that Punk was supposed to retain and AJ was supposed to win the Diva's championship for the first time."

Lita laughed. "So? I changed the script a little. Everyone does. I lost count of the amount of times you and I did things a little differently."

"I think this is more than a _little _differently," Trish said. "You changed… pretty much everything. You stole a title. From a girl who used to idolize you and a guy you broke up with years ago. You don't think that's… I don't know, wrong?"

"Not really," Lita replied. "Sometimes, when you really want something, you have to just take it. You can't let people walk all over you. I was doing that for too long."

"You went too far," Trish said flatly. "That was wrong, and you know it. Sure, maybe Punk led you on for a little while, but what did AJ do to deserve this? She's just a naïve girl who's been caught up in the middle of something she has no control of. Does that sound familiar at all?"

"I… I don't care," Lita snapped, shaking her head. She would never admit that her best friend's words were making sense to her. "She has to learn that to get ahead in the business, sometimes you have to step on a few toes."

"You know who you sound like right now?" Trish asked. "The same people who made you come crying to me when your mistakes backstage turned you into someone you didn't want to be in the ring. You're punishing her for your mistakes. It isn't right."

"I… I…" Lita didn't know what to say. "Trish, I have to go." She hung up abruptly, dropping her phone on the seat next to her as tears streamed down her cheeks. Trish was wrong. She was wrong. Lita was perfectly within her rights to take what rightfully belonged to her. Wasn't she? Suddenly, she wasn't so sure anymore.

* * *

"Punk?" AJ called, sliding her room key into the door. "I'm back. Are you-" She paused. "What… what are you doing?"

"What… does… it… look… like?" he grunted. He was doing push-ups. He stopped with a sigh and sat up.

"How many push-ups have you done since you got back?" she asked, closing the door behind her and sitting down on the bed.

"Just… 100," he replied, still breathing heavily. "Or 200. I'm… not sure. I lost count. I think."

She frowned. "Why? You already worked out today."

He laughed. "I don't have any vices," he reminded her. "I don't do any of the things sad, normal people do to relieve stress. So, I work out… a lot." He rubbed one of his arms, wincing. "I think I may have overdone it." Shrugging, he went to sit down on the bed next to her. "Did hanging out with Kaitlyn make you feel any better?"

She nodded, leaning her head on his shoulder, not caring that he was sweaty. "We talked a lot," she answered. "But… I kind of wish…"

"That I would've comforted you instead?" he guessed. He sighed. "I'm sorry, baby. I shouldn't have flipped out like I did. Look, it's not your fault, okay? I promise it's not. I don't blame you at all. There's nothing you could have done to prevent this."

"You really promise?" she whispered, tilting her head to look up at him.

"Promise." He kissed her forehead. "I… scared you back there, didn't I?" He remembered seeing her wince, watching her duck away in fear.

"A little," she admitted. "You kind of reminded me of Daniel tonight."

He sighed again, hating that he could possibly have the ability to make her feel so powerless and helpless, the way she once was. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to, I swear. I just get… really, really angry sometimes. You know that. Especially when shit like this happens." He looked down. "I'm going to make this right, AJ. This wasn't supposed to happen, and I'm going to make it right."

"Baby, you don't have to," she said. "It'll work itself out. We'll get another shot, or it will be reversed, or something like that. Don't worry."

"No," Punk said firmly. "I've let you down too many times. You lost what you've always wanted, ever since you were a kid, because of me. I'm not letting it happen again, you got that?"

AJ pulled back from him to look him in the eye. "You're too good to me," she whispered, kissing him. She pulled him into an embrace, her head leaning against his chest to listen to the beat of his heart.

_No, _he thought, his arms settling around her back. _I'm not nearly good enough. But I will be. _


	41. Chapter 41

The next day before RAW, Punk went straight to Hunter to rant about what had happened the previous night. He left his boss's office disappointed, when Hunter informed him that the decision was final and would not be reversed.

"Relax," he told Punk. "Night of Champions is next month."

"A couple of years ago, you would have taken my head off for doing something like that," Punk snapped. "And now you're just going to let it go? Who are you, and what have you done with the guy who threw me through a table last year?"

"Trust me, she'll be spoken to," Hunter assured him. "But for now, this is the way it's going to be. Now get out of my office. It's almost 8. Don't you have tights to put on or something?"

He stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

* * *

Punk spent the next week reassuring AJ at every possible chance he got. He constantly told her how much he loved her, pampering her and being as supportive as he could. She accepted it all with a bright smile, but inside she still carried the constant pain with her. Punk found her sobbing in their bedroom one day, after he came back from bringing Phillip to visit his mother.

"Baby, what's wrong?" he asked, putting his arms around her shoulders gently. Her tiny frame shook in his embrace.

"It's just…" she wept, "all of this is so screwed up. I feel like… it didn't have to happen this way. What did I do? Why are… why are things falling apart like this?" She looked up at him, her eyes bloodshot.

"You didn't do anything," he replied quietly, his heart breaking at the sight of her tear-stained cheeks. "All of this is my fault. All of it."

"And every time I close my eyes," she continued, "I think about you with her. Every time I kiss you, I imagine you kissing her. I can't get the image out of my head. I used to worship her, and now I hate her more than anyone I've ever hated in my life. And… part of me still hates you for it, too. None of this would have happened if you just been able to… to…" She couldn't even finish her sentence. She collapsed against him in sobs.

He felt his hands stinging in shame as they held her. He'd known this was coming. There was no way she could have moved past what he'd done so quickly. She had put up a wall to keep him out, remaining strong even though she was burning on the inside. He didn't know how she'd been able to do it all this time. "Shhh," he whispered, rubbing her back gently. "It's okay." He didn't know what else to say.

"No, it's not okay!" she cried, shoving him slightly. "My husband cheated on me, and the woman he cheated with stole from me the one thing I've wanted my whole life, when I was so close to getting it! How is that okay?"

"It's not," he agreed, hanging his head in disgrace. _Some husband I am,_ he thought. "It's not at all. It's my fault. I did this. I caused this. But I'm going to fix it as best I can. I can't make what I did go away… but I can try to make up for what you lost last weekend."

"How?" she whispered, sniffling.

"We're both getting rematches next month at Night of Champions," he answered. "And this time, we're going separately- you versus Lita, and me versus Wade. If you can hang until then… we can get it back. We can get it all back."

"Are you sure?" she asked. "What if she does it again?"

"She won't," he assured her. "I'm going to make sure of it."

"How could you possibly do that? We've already seen that she has no intention of playing by the rules. What if she just… takes it again?"

"You let me worry about that." He stood up, kissing her on the forehead. "Relax. I'll go make dinner. I have a few phone calls to make."

She nodded, grabbing some tissues to dry her tears as he left the room. He went downstairs, leaning against the kitchen counter as he took out his phone. Taking a deep breath, he swallowed his pride and called Trish Stratus.

* * *

Lita was walking her dog through the neighborhood when she turned back onto her block, noticing a car in her driveway that she didn't recognize. "Um, excuse me?" she said, approaching the car with caution. A slim figure leaning on the other side turned around, revealing herself to be none other than Lita's own best friend. "Oh, Trish!" She smiled, extending her arms for a hug. "What are you doing here? Not that I'm not happy to see you."

Trish pulled her into an embrace, but she wasn't smiling. "We need to talk," she said, "and I thought that it was a conversation best had in person."

"Oh boy," Lita said, laughing. "Can't wait to hear what was so important that you had to fly from LA to Atlanta to tell me." She dug her keys out of her pocket to let them both inside. Her dog scampered in ahead of them. She sat down on a couch in the living room. "Want anything?"

Trish shook her head, sitting down across from her. Normally, she would be animated and chatty with her best friend, but this wasn't a social visit. She was on a mission. "So, I talked to Punk yesterday."

Lita rolled her eyes. "Fuck, really? Here we go."

"Hear me out," Trish said. "He made a lot of sense, Amy. He's right. I know you don't like hearing that, but he's right. You can't keep doing this."

"Can't keep doing what?" Lita snapped, leaning forward.

"Punishing someone else for your mistakes," Trish replied simply. "What has AJ done to deserve what you've been doing?"

"See, that's the thing," Lita said. "_My _mistakes. You keep saying _my _mistakes. What about him, Trish? Isn't he guilty, too? He's the one who cheated on his wife, not me. I know I'm to blame, too, but why is everyone ganging up on me and acting like he's completely innocent?"

"Oh, no one has let him off the hook," Trish assured her. "He's paying for it, every day. He has to win his wife's trust back and earn the respect of all of his friends again. It's a long road. But you're not making it any easier for AJ. I don't know if you're trying to hurt Punk through her or what, but whatever the reason, you've got to stop."

"It's not that," Lita muttered, looking away shamefully. "I mean, part of it is, but…" She sighed. "That's not all of it."

"Then what?" Trish asked, her expression softening as a realization dawned on her. "She reminds you of yourself, doesn't she?"

Lita nodded, leaning back into the couch cushions. It was almost as though, by punishing AJ, she was punishing herself back then, the naïve little redhead whose mistakes she let ruin her career.

"She's not you," Trish said quietly, leaning forward to rub her friend's hand.

"She's not," Lita agreed, looking down again. "She's better."

"Then let her be her," Trish said. "Don't stand in her way."

Lita lifted her head back up. "I'll try," she said. "I'll try."


	42. Chapter 42

Punk stood in front of the bathroom mirror, splashing cold water onto his face. _Wake up, _he told himself. _Get your head in the game. _

He and AJ had arrived at the arena in Las Vegas that morning, where this year's Night of Champions was being held. She had quickly taken off to go find solace in Kaitlyn. Punk understood, knowing she needed to be with someone other than him right now. Sleepless nights coupled with nightmares had set her on edge. He was glad that relaxing with her friend gave her comfort, but this also left him to face his own demons alone.

He believed it was better this way, though. It wasn't fair to AJ to have to take all of the problems he had caused head-on. He'd already put her through enough.

So he forced himself to stare at his reflection, as painful and shameful as it was to look into his own hauntingly green eyes. Inside them, he saw everything- his son, his wife, his mistakes, his triumphs. It was all there, everything that he'd done. Plenty of it wasn't right, and he could only hope that he would be able to make up for at least some of it. He could only hope it would be enough.

He looked down at the wedding ring on his finger. He couldn't believe he'd been so stupid, so reckless as to break the bond it signified. But it would never happen again. He would never make AJ cry tears of agony ever again. He would become her hero once again, the knight who carried her out of the darkness and gave her everything she'd ever dreamed of.

_Tonight, _he thought, _I take everything back._

* * *

AJ stood before Kaitlyn, running her fingers through her hair in a constant panic. "Relax," the half-blonde, half-brunette diva told her smaller friend. "Take a few deep breaths."

"Punk said he took care of it," AJ repeated for the hundredth time that day as she paced about the room, nodding. "So that means everything should go the way it's supposed to, right?"

Kaitlyn nodded as well. "Yes," she replied, the same way she had every time AJ had asked her that question. "Now please, calm the hell down before I have to do something silly like dump Gatorade all over you."

AJ looked up at her, horrified. "Don't do that!" she cried. "I only have one set of tights!"

Kaitlyn laughed. "Now I _know _you need a downer or something," she said. "I was joking, April. Come on, isn't your match soon? You should go wait by the curtain. And maybe, you know, talk to your husband."

AJ nodded, finally taking several deep breaths as she had previously been instructed to do. Then, on impulse, she threw her arms around Kaitlyn. "Thank you," she whispered. "For putting up with me."

She just smiled, embracing AJ back. "It's my pleasure," she said. "Now go."

AJ hurried off through the catacombs of the arena, easily finding Punk right where she knew he would be- waiting for her, to escort her out to her match.

"Hey," he said, pulling her into an embrace. "I haven't seen much of you today. I missed you."

"I missed you, too," she admitted. "I just had to-"

He cut her off with a brief kiss. "I know," he said. "Don't worry about it. Are you ready?"

"As ready as I'll ever be," she replied.

"Good." He kissed her again. "You'll do fine. I promise."

The crowd greeted them with all the fanfare they usually received and more as they walked down to the ring, AJ in the lead with Punk trailing behind her. He took a seat beside the commentators' table but denied a mic, instead leaning forward to watch AJ climb into the ring. He gave her a bright, encouraging smile. This wasn't the sarcastic, edgy, no-nonsense Punk the WWE Universe knew and loved so much, but he didn't care. Right now, he wasn't their Straight Edge Savior. He was AJ's husband.

AJ blew a kiss to him as she leaned back into a turnbuckle, turning her head to face the ramp. She tried to hold in the wince she usually displayed when Lita's music blasted throughout the arena, but it inevitably happened anyway. Shaking her head quickly, she stood up straight to face her opponent.

The wrongfully crowned (to AJ, anyway) Diva's champion made her way down to the ring, belt strapped proudly around her waist. AJ nearly spat in disgust as Lita slid under the ropes to join in her. The redhead winked deviously at her before handing the belt to the referee, who held it up between the two women. He signaled to the timekeeper, who rang the bell.

Lita immediately charged at her, but AJ was ready for it. She quickly stepped out of the way, sending Lita back into the ropes behind her. But Lita just grinned at her. It was only just the beginning.

* * *

The match had waged on for ten minutes so far, and already AJ was exhausted. It had been one of the most brutal matches she'd ever been part of. She didn't know what Punk had done to ensure that Lita wouldn't pull anything, but AJ wasn't sure it was working; her opponent was pulling no punches.

AJ yelped as Lita dragged her arm around to put her into a hold. AJ quickly ducked, bending to flip Lita over and slam her down on the mat. Lita quickly scrambled back up, ready to lunge at her again, but AJ grabbed her arms and held them back. She knew she had to end this, soon.

Lita shoved her back, but this time AJ was ready. She jumped up for a missile drop kick, both her feet connecting with Lita's chest. Lita let out a gasp and fell back. AJ immediately dropped to grab one of her legs. _Stay down, _she pleaded silently. _Please, just stay down._ The ref dropped beside them, and AJ felt the mat move beneath them as he counted.

_One, two, three._

AJ wasn't sure she even heard the bell ring. It felt as though time had slowed down. She released Lita and stood up, looking around the arena. Had she done it? Was it real? She looked over at Punk, who had jumped out of his seat in celebration. She was aware of him climbing over the ropes to get to her, embracing her and spinning her around.

"I… I did it?" AJ whispered.

"You did it," he confirmed, grinning. He put her down and stepped back so the ref could raise her arm and hand her the belt. She smoothed her hand over the glittering surface; it would have her name on it soon. She looked down at Lita, who was slowly but surely rising to her feet. Her eyebrows were narrowed and her face was fixed with rage, but the softness in her eyes told a different story.

"Why?" AJ whispered, quiet enough that the ring mics wouldn't pick it up, but loud enough for the former Diva's champion to hear.

"Because you deserve it," she mouthed back. "I'm sorry." She left the ring in shame, shooting one more glance back at the couple before disappearing up the ramp.

AJ turned back to Punk and smiled. "I did it," she said. But just as she tilted her head up to kiss him, another familiar song filled the air in the arena.

"Sorry to interrupt this touching celebration," Wade spat into the mic, "but you're not done yet."

Punk instinctively moved AJ behind her. "Go sit down, baby," he said loudly, so everyone could hear. "I have a few things to take care of." He stripped off his shirt and handed it to her. Wade was right; he wasn't done yet. He had one more thing to do.

* * *

The match was long. It was vicious. It was faced-paced and hard-hitting. Wade was strong enough to send Punk crashing to the other side of the ring, and fast enough to retaliate, matching him blow for blow. There was rarely any downtime. It was everything it should have been so far, to close this chapter in Punk's life and start a new one.

But as he felt the match was coming to a close, with both he and his opponent aching and sweating profusely, Wade hit him with a bulldog and dropped him back to the mat, hard. He grabbed Punk's leg and pulled it back. It was then that Punk realized that Wade had no intention of being stripped of his title just yet.

"I'm not letting this belt go," Wade whispered in his ear. This confirmed it. Punk frantically kicked out, getting his leg free just in time. He scrambled to his feet, backing up.

"So that's how you want to play?" Punk shouted angrily. "All right, then!" Part of him didn't blame Wade; it felt good to be at the top, to have thirty pounds of power and respect strapped around your waist. Having it torn away after only a month would be devastating.

But Punk wasn't going to let it happen. He'd come too far to let Wade steal it away, much the same way as Lita had done to AJ. He reeled back and came flying forward, hitting wade square in the chest with a forceful clothesline. The blow sent Wade down to the mat, dazed. Punk took the opportunity to clamber up onto the top rope, raising his arms above his head. The crowd howled in anticipation as Punk jumped, his padded elbow aimed down. He landed the Macho Man inspired elbow drop right on point and immediately grabbed Wade's leg. Before the British wrestler could even realize what was happening, the ref was already counting.

Punk released him when the bell rang, shutting his eyes tightly and sitting back on his knees. It was much the same way he'd reacted more than two years earlier, when he'd won the belt for the very first time from John Cena. But this time was different. He felt another body slam into him, nearly knocking him down. He opened his eyes to find AJ throwing her arms around his neck. He stood, pulling her up with her. She released him for a moment to snatch the belt from the ref, handing it proudly to Punk.

Laughing, he took it from her and threw it over his shoulder. It felt good to have that weight back. "Not at all subtle, are you?" he asked, pulling her against him.

She just smiled at him. "That's my champ," she said, kissing him.

He smiled back. "Been a good run so far, hasn't it?" he asked.

"The best," she agreed. "So what happens now?"

"Not sure," he admitted. "I think I want to take my wife and son to Disney World or something. Isn't that what family men are supposed to do when they win a championship of some sort?"

She laughed. "Sounds good to me," she replied.

They turned to face the crowd together, both proudly holding their belts over their shoulders. "I think this makes us the new power couple," he observed.

"Good," she said. "I've always wanted to be like Miss Elizabeth." Then she turned back to him, looking up at him with the big, dazzling eyes that always made his heart beat a little faster. "Hey, Punk?"

He looked back at her. "Yeah?"

"Let's go home."

**Author's note: Well guys, this is it. We've reached the end. I never thought this story would be as long as it has turned out to be, but I'm very pleased with how it's turned out. I struggled for a long time with how to end it, but I think this wraps it up nicely. I want to take this opportunity to thank everyone who has reviewed, giving me great feedback and sticking with me through this whole rollercoaster! Here's a shoutout to Jean-theGuardian, UnbelievinglyRandom, Daniella Consuela, Red Foxy, PeaceLoveMuzic, KatieKazaMizAwesome, TellTale777, CRuck, XxRamyfanxX, DemonicXaliv, AmandaEchelon, Miserlou, Risinggirl108, Readheaded Bandgeek, y2jamila, and anyone else I may have missed. Many of these users have great stories of their own that they've written and I highly recommend that my readers give them a look! I'm working on another story and I'll be posting the first chapter in the next few days. Thanks for reading, guys.**

**-MyChaosTheory  
**


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